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MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES 

\ 

IN THE VARIOUS COUNTRIES OF THE WORLD. 


SELECTED FROM THE 
N.\RR.\TIVES OF CELEBRATED TRAVELLERS. 


WITH THIRTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 

i 


BOSTON: 

HOHEKTS, IU!()TT!E1!S. 
18(19. 








The following work is founded on a compilation 
made by MjNI. Zurcber and Margolle, and published 
under the title of Les Ascensions Cel^bres. In 
several instances, however, the narratives of English 
travellers liave been substituted for passages taken 
from the works of foreign authors. 





CONTENTS 


I. MONT BLANC .... 

II. MONT BLANC .... 

III. THE FINSTERAARIIORN 

IV. THE PEAK OF MORTERATSCH 

V. THE JUNGFRAU . . . I . 

VI. THE GALENSTOCK 

VII. THE MATTERHORN 

VIII. THE PIC DU MIDI OF THE PYRENEES 

IX. THE BRECHE DE ROLAND . 

X. MONT PERDU .... 

XI. NORTH CAPE .... 

XII. THE BROCKEN .... 

. XIII. PARNASSUS .... 

XIV. 5IOUNT ATHOS .... 

XV. MOUNT ELBURZ IN THE CAUCASUS 

XVI. THE TAURUS MOUNTAINS OF CILICIA 

GHAR-DAGIl) .... 

XVII. MOUNT LEBANON 
XVIII. MOUNT ARARAT .... 


PAGE 

1 

. 15 

. 33 

. 52 

. 61 
. 84 

. 97 

. no 
. 116 
. 127 
. 146 
. 156 
. 165 
. 174 
. 179 
BUL- 

. 185 
. 196 
. 208 
. 216 


XIX. MOUNT SINAI 




VI 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 

XX. GUNGOOTREE, THE SACRED SOURCE THE 

GANGES . . . . . . .226 

XXI. ADAM’s peak, CEYLON . . . .236 

XXH. ASCENT OF THE GUNUNG-TALANG, SUMATRA 244 


XXHI. PETER BOTTE, MAURITIUS .... 250 

XXIV. THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE . . . .260 

XXV. DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT VOLCANO . . 270 

XXVI. THE SILLA OF CARACAS . . . .278 

XXVII. CHIMBORAZO . . . . . ,288 

XXVIH. DISCOVERY OF PERUVIAN BARK . . . 304 

XXIX. ANIMAL LIFE IN MOUNTAIN REGIONS . . 313 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGR 

THE GALENSTOCK. FALL OF M. DOLLFDS Frontispiece 
THE COL DU GEANT ... . . 9 

THE AIGUILLE DU MIDI ...... IG 

-MONT RLANC, FROAI THE HREVENT .... 26 

THE FINSTERAARHORN ...... 44 

AVALANCHE ON THE PEAK OF MORTERATSCH . . .'57 

THE .TI’NGFRAU ....... 70 

THE MATTERHORN . . . . . .100 

FATAL ACCIDENT ON THE MATTERHORN . . . 105 

THE PIC DU AUDI . . . . . . ,116 

THE RRt:CHE DE ROLAND . . . . .116 

MONT PERDU . 138 

THE NORTH CAPE . . '. . . . 146 

ISLAND OF LOFODEN, NORTH CAPE .... 148 

THE LSLAND OF AIAGEROE, NORTH CAPE . . . J.54 

THE HROCKEN . . . . . . .157 

THE RROCKEN, If AN ENT ANZPLATZ . . . .162 

MOITNT PARNASSUS . . . . .168 

.MOUNT ATHOS ....... 175 

-MOUNT ELRURZ . . . . . . .180 

A (;ORGE IN THE TAURI’S . . . . .186 






Vlll 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS, 


PAGE 


MOUNT LEBANON, CASCADE OF NAHR-EL-LEBEN . 196 

MOUNT ARARAT ....... 210 

MOUNT SINAI. . 216 

VIEW IN THE HIMALAYAS . . . . .228 

GUNGOOTREE, THE HIMALAYAS . . . .232 

ADAM’s peak, CEYLON . . . . . .236 

THE S(ELASSIE, SUMATRA ... . . 245 

PETER BOTTE, MAURITIUS . . . . .250 

THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE . . . . .260 

THE SAN ANDRES, MEXICO . . . . .272 

THE SILLA OF CARACAS ...... 278 

BRIDGE IN THE CORDILLERAS . . . . .287 

CHIMBORAZO ........ 290 

THE CORDILLERAS, PERU . . . . .302 

RIO VINAGRE CASCADE, IN THE CORDILLERAS . . 312 

CONDORS. . 314 







MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


I. 

MONT BLANC. 

ASCENT IN 1787 BY DE SAUSSURE. 

On my way to Chamoimix, in the beginning of July, 
I met at Sallenche tlie courageous Jacques Balmat, 
who was coming to Geneva to inform me of his 
recent success : he had ascended to the summit of 
the mountain with two other guides. Bain was 
falling when I arrived at Chamounix; and the bad 
weather lasted four weeks. But I was determined 
to wait until the end of the season rather than miss 
a favourable opportunity. 

It came at last,—that moment so much desired, 
—and I set off on the 1st of August, 1787, accom¬ 
panied by a servant, and by eighteen guides, who 
carried the scientific instruments, and all the bag¬ 
gage that 1 required. ]\Iy son had an ardent desire 
to go with me ; but I feared that he was not as yet 
either robust enough, or sufficiently inured to such 
, B 



2 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


violent and prolonged exertion, and therefore in¬ 
sisted on his renouncing the project. He remained 
at the Priory, where he most carefully took observ¬ 
ations corresponding to those which I made on the 
summit. 

In order to be perfectly free in the choice of the 
places where we should pass the nights, we carried 
with us a tent under which I reposed the first even¬ 
ing on the top of the Montague de la Cote. This day 
'was free from hardships and dangers: we walked up 
either on turf or over rocks, and did it easily in five 
or six hours. But from thence to the summit we 
marched on over ice and snow. 

The second day’s work was not the easiest. 
We had first to cross the glacier de la Cote in order 
to gain the foot of a little chain of rocks which are 
embosomed in the snows of Mont Blanc. This 
glacier is difficult and dangerous. It is cut up 
into wide, deep, and irregular crevasses, which some¬ 
times can only be crossed by means of bridges of 
snow, which are occasionally very thin, and sus¬ 
pended over deep abysses. One of my guides had 
a narrow escape. He had gone in the evening with 
two others to examine the passage; and happily 
they had taken the precaution of tying themselves 
to each other with cords; for the snow gave way 
under him in the midst of a large and deep crevasse ; 
and he remained suspended between his two com¬ 
panions. We passed close to the opening which 
had formed under him; and I trembled at the sight 
of the danger which he had run. The passage of 


MONT BLANC. 


3 


this glacier is so difficult and so tortuous that it 
took me three hours to go from the top of La 
Cote to the first rocks of the isolated chain, although 
the distance is not more than three-quarters of a 
mile in a straight line. 

After having reached these rocks we set out 
from them again in order to ascend, in a serpentine 
manner, into a little valley filled with snow which 
stretches from north to south, to the very foot of the 
highest point. Tliese snows are divided at intervals by 
enormous and superb crevasses, the clean and sharp 
cuttings of which show the snows disposed into hori¬ 
zontal beds, each of which beds corresponds to a 
year. And whatever might be the width of these 
crevasses we could nowhere discover their depth. 

My guides wished to spend the night in the 
neighbourhood of one of the rocks which we passed 
on this route ; but as the highest of them is from 
600 to 700 fathoms below the summit, I wished to 
ascend higher. For that purpose it was necessary 
to encamp in the midst of the snows, and to this I 
had the greatest difficulty in getting my companions 
to consent. They imagined that during the night 
there reigns in these high snows a cold absolutely 
insupportable; and they seriously feared that they 
should perish through it. I told tliem at last that 
as for myself I was determined to go on with those 
of them of whom I was sure ; that we should dig 
deeply in the snow, cover the excavation with the 
tent-cloth, then shut ourselves closely up in it, and 
that thus we should not suffer at all from the cold. 


4 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


however rigorous it might be. This arrangement 
reassured them; and we went forward. At four 
o’clock in the evening we reached the second of the 
three great plateaux of snow which we had to cross ; 
and there we encamped, at 1455 fathoms above the 
Priory, and at 1995 above the sea, being 90 fathoms 
higher than the summit of the Peak of Teneriffe. 
We did not go on to the last plateau, because it is 
exposed to avalanches. The first one over which we 
had just passed, is not exempt from them. We 
had crossed two of these avalanches which had fallen 
since Balmat’s last journey, and the ruins of which 
covered the valley in all its extent. 

My guides set themselves first to excavate the 
spot in which we had to pass the night; but they 
quickly felt the effect of the rarity of the atmo¬ 
sphere (the barometer being at 16*3 inches). These 
robust men, for whom seven or eight hours’ march 
was absolutely nothing, had not raised more than 
five or six shovelfuls of snow when they felt 
the impossibility of going on. They were obliged 
to rest every minute. One of them, who had 
turned backto get a barrel of some water which 
we had seen in a crevasse, became ill on his way, 
came back without the water, and passed the even¬ 
ing in the greatest pain. Even I, who am so accus¬ 
tomed to the air of mountains, and always feel 
better in it than in that of the plain, was utterly 
exhausted by the exertion of just preparing my me¬ 
teorological instruments. This affection produced in 
us an unquenchable thirst; and we could only pro- 


MONT BLANC. 


5 


cure water by melting snow, for the water which 
we had seen in ascending proved to be frozen when 
we returned for it; and the little charcoal chafing 
dish served twenty thirsty persons but slowly. 

In the middle of this plateau, enclosed between 
the last peaks of Mont Blanc on the south, its high 
steps on the east, and the Dome du Goute on the 
west, one sees hardly anything but snow, of a pure 
and dazzling whiteness; and on the highest peaks 
this forms the most singular contrast with the 
almost black sky of these high regions. You see 
there no living being, no appearance of vegetation ; 
it is the abode of cold and silence. When I pic¬ 
tured to myself Doctor Paccard and Jacques Balmat 
arriving here just as the sun was declining, without 
shelter, without assistance, without even the cer¬ 
tainty that men can live in the places which they 
aspired to reach, and notwithstanding, intrepidly 
pursuing their way, I was filled with admiration at 
their energy of mind and their courage. 

]My guides, constantly haunted by fear of the 
cold, closed all the edges of the tents with such 
exactness that I suffered much from the heat and 
from the closeness of the air. Indeed I was obliged 
to go out in the night to breathe. The moon was 
shining with the greatest splendour in the midst of 
a sky black as ebony. Jupiter also appeared par¬ 
ticularly radiant from behind the highest point on 
the east pi iNIont Blanc: and the light reflected by 
all this basin of snow was so dazzling that one could 
only distinguish stars of the first and -second mag- 


6 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


nitude. We were just falling asleep when we were 
aroused by the noise of an avalanche which covered 
part of the slope which we intended to climb on the 
morrow. At break of day the thermometer was 
three degrees below freezing. 

We set out late, because it was necessary to melt 
the snow for breakfast and for the journey. It was 
drunk as soon as melted; and these fellows who 
most religiously abstained from the wine which they 
had to carry, robbed me continually of the water 
which I had put in reserve. 

We began by ascending to the third and last 
plateau; then we turned to the left in order to 
reach the highest rock on the east of the summit. 
The declivity is very steep, about 39 degrees in 
some places ; everywhere it abounds in precipices, 
and the surface of the snow was so hard that tliose 
who went first could only make sure of their footing 
by chopping steps with a hatchet. We took two 
hours to ascend this slope, which is about 250 
fathoms in height. Arrived at the last rock, we 
turned towards the right, to the west, in order to 
climb the last slope, of which the perpendicular 
height is about 150 fathoms. This slope only 
inclines from 28 to 29 degrees, and presents no 
danger ; but the air there is so rare that our strength 
was quickly exhausted; near the top I could not 
go more than fifteen or sixteen steps without tak¬ 
ing breath. I felt even from time to tinae such a 
failure of strength that I was forced to sit down; 
but as soon as respiration returned my strength 


MONT BLANC. 


7 


returned with it; and then it seemed to me that I 
should be able at one effort to reach the top of the 
mountain. All my guides, in proportion to their 
strength, were in the same state. We took two 
hours from the last rock to the summit; and it was 
eleven o’clock when we arrived there. 

]\Iy eyes were first turned towards Chamounix, 
where I knew that my wife and sister were following 
my course through the telescope, with an anxiety 
unnecessarily great, no doubt, but none the less cruel; 
and I experienced a very sweet and consoling feel¬ 
ing when I saw floating in the air the flag which 
they had promised to hoist the moment when they 
espied me on the highest point, and ’^dien their fears 
would be at least relieved for the time. 

I could then enjoy, without regret, the grand 
spectacle which lay beneath my eyes. A ’ light va¬ 
pour suspended in thje lower regions of the air robbed 
me of the sight of the lower and more distant ob¬ 
jects, such as the plains of France and Lombardy; 
but I did not much mind this loss. What I saw, 
and saw with the greatest clearness, was the whole 
collection, the whole group of these lugh peaks 
of which I had so long desired to know the organi¬ 
sation. I could not believe m}^ eyes; it seemed to 
me that it must be a dream when I beheld beneath 
my feet those majestic peaks, those veritable needles, 
Le ]Midi, I’Argentiere, and Le Geant, whose bases 
even I had so long*found difficult and dangerous 
of access. I seized on their bearing one to another, 
their connexion, their structure; and one glance re- 


8 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


moved all those doubts which years of labour had 
not been able to clear up. 

During this time our guides set up the tent and 
placed in it the little table on which 1 was to make 
my experiments. But when I came to fix my in¬ 
struments, I found myself every instant obliged to 
interrupt my work in order to get breath. And if 
we consider that the barometer stood there only 
at 15*1 inches, and that thus the air was of 
hardly more than half its usual density, we shall 
understand that it is necessary to supplement the 
density by the frequency of inspiration. Then this 
frequency accelerates the motion of the blood, and 
the more so as the arteries were no longer counter¬ 
balanced on the outside by a pressure equal to that 
which they usually felt. So ^ye were all feverish. 

When I remained perfectly quiet, I only felt a 
little uneasiness and a sliglit disposition to sickness. 
But, when I took any trouble or fixed my attention 
for a few moments together, and above all, when by 
stooping down I had contracted my chest, I was 
obliged to rest, and take breath for two or three 
minutes. My guides experienced similar sensa¬ 
tions ; they had no appetites; and, in truth, our pro¬ 
visions, which had become frozen by the way, were 
not calculated to excite them. They cared for 
neitlier wine nor brandy. In fact, they had dis¬ 
covered that strong liquors augment these uncom¬ 
fortable sensations, no doubt by increasing the 
quickness of the circulation. Nothing but fresh 
water was found agreeable; and both time and 


MONT BI^VNC. 


9 


trouble in lighting a fire were necessary in order to 
obtain that. 

I remained on the summit until half-past three; 
and although I did not lose a single moment, yet I 
could not in these four hours and a half make all 
the experiments which I had frequently finished in 
less than three hours by the sea-side. I took great 
care, however, with those which were most essential. 



The Col du Geant. 


Quitting this magnificent belvedere I came, in 
three-quarters of an hour, to the rocks which formed 
the shoulder on the east of the summit. The de¬ 
scent of this declivity of which the ascent had been 
so painful, was easy and agreeable; the snow was 
neither too hard nor too soft; and, as the move- 



10 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


ments of our bodies in coming down did not com¬ 
press the diaphragm, it did not try the breathing; 
and so we did not suffer from the rarity of the air. 
Besides, as this descent is broad, and free from pre¬ 
cipices, there was nothing to alarm us or to retard 
the march. But it was not thus with the descent 
which, from the top of the shoulder, conducts to the 
plateau on which we had slept. The great rapidity 
of this slope, the unbearable brightness of the sun 
reflected by the snow, which showed to us the pre¬ 
cipices under our feet, and made them appear more 
terrible than they were, rendered it extremely pain¬ 
ful. Besides, as the hardness of the snow had made 
our march difficult in the morning, so now its soft¬ 
ness, produced by the heat of the sun, incommoded 
us in the evening, because under this softened sur¬ 
face we found it hard aud slippery. 

As we had all doubted of this descent some of 
the guides had sought for another while I was oc¬ 
cupied in making my observations ; but their search 
having been in vain, we were constrained to return 
by the same way that we had gone up. However, 
thanks to the care of my guides, we did it without 
accident, and that in less than an hour and a quar¬ 
ter. We passed near the place where we had, if 
not slept, at least rested, on the preceding night; and 
we pushed on a league further, as far as the rock, 
near which we had stopped in ascending. I deter¬ 
mined to sleep there, and made them fix the tent 
against the southern extremity of this rock in a 
truly singular situation. It was on the snow, on the 


MONT BLANC. 


11 


edge of a declivity exceedingly rapid, which descends 
from the valley commanded by the Dome de Groute 
with its crown of seracs* and which is terminated on 
the south by the peak of Mont Blanc. At the 
bottom of this declivity there was a large and deep 
crevasse which separated us from the valley, and 
which engulfed everything that we let fall from any¬ 
where near our tent. 

We had chosen this position to avoid the danger 
of avalanches, and in order that the auicles findino’ 
shelter in the clefts of the rock we should not be 
crowded into the tent, as we had been on the pre¬ 
vious night. 

1 contemplated the mass of clouds which floated 
under my feet above the valleys and mountains 
which were less elevated than we were. These 
clouds, instead of presenting fiat or smooth surfaces, 
such as one sees when looking up from below at them, 
displayed forms that were extremely odd,— towers, 

* In the Alps they give the name of “s6rac ” to a species 
of white, close cheese which they obtain from whey, and 
which they press into rectangular cases, in which they take 
the form of cubes, or rather of rectangular ])arallelopipeds. 
The snows, at a Treat height, frequently take this form when 
they freeze, after having been drenched by rain. They be¬ 
come then extremely compact, and in this state, if a thick 
bed of hardened snow gets on to a declivity, so that it slides 
in a mass, and that, in sliding, some portions of the mass do 
not go straight, their weight forces them to break into frag¬ 
ments nearly rectangular, of which some are perhaps fifty 
feet every way, and which, on account of their homogeneity, 
are as regular as if they had been cut with scissors. 


12 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


castles, giants,—and appeared to be moved, by ver¬ 
tical winds, wbich came from different points of the 
countries situated under them. Above all these 
clouds I saw the horizon bounded by a band com¬ 
posed of two lines, the lower one of a blackish red, 
and the upper one lighter and resembling a flame of 
a beautiful yellow colour, varying, transparent, and 
shaded. 

We supped merrily and with good appetites, 
after which I passed an excellent night on my mat- 
trass. It was then only that I enjoyed the pleasure 
of having accomplished the design formed twenty- 
seven years before, in my first journey to Chamounix, 
in 1760 ; a project which I had so often abandoned 
and taken up again, and which had been to my 
family a continual subject of anxiety and disquiet. 
This prepossession of mind had the character of a 
sort of malady; my eyes had never met Mont Blanc, 
which could be seen from many places in our neigh¬ 
bourhood, without my experiencing a sort of'sorrow¬ 
ful pang. At the moment in which I reached the 
top, my satisfaction was not complete; it was still 
less so when I left it, for I only then saw what I had 
not been able to do. But in the silence of the night, 
after I had well rested from my fatigue; when I re¬ 
capitulated the observations that I had made; when, 
above all, I retraced the magnificent picture of the 
mountains which I carried graven in my head; and 
when, lastly, I encouraged the well-founded hope of 
finishing on the Col du Geant what I had not been 
able to do, and which really will never be done on 


MONT BLANC. 


13 


Mont Blanc,— then I felt a true and unmixed satis¬ 
faction. 

On the 4th of August, the fourth day of our 
journey, we did not set out until six o’clock in 
the morning. Shortly after we arrived at the 
hut. We were next obliged to descend a slope of 
snow, the inclination of which was about forty-six 
degrees, and to cross a large crevasse over a bridge 
of snow so slight that it was not at first more than 
three inches thick; and on 3 of the guides who 
swerved a little from the middle, got one of his legs 
over the side. At an hour’s march beyond the hut 
we came to crevasses which were open; and in order 
to avoid them it was necessary to descend an inclined 
slope of fifty degrees. Coming at last to the glacier 
which we must recross, we found it so changed in 
the last four-and-twenty hours, that we could not 
discover the route which we had taken in ascending; 
for the crevasses were widened, the bridges were 
broken, and often, finding no way we were forced to 
return on our steps ; while oftener still we were 
obliofed to make use of our ladder in order to cross 
crevasses which it would have been impossible to 
pass without its assistance. Just as he had reached 
the other side, one of the guides lost his footing; 
he slid to the edge of a chink, into which he all but 
fell, and in which he lost one of the stakes of my 
tent. In this moment of fright an enormous piece of 
ice fell into a great crevasse, with a noise which shook 
tlie whole glacier. But at last we got safe on to 
the rock at half-past nine in the morning free from 


14 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


all further trouble or clanger. We took only two 
hours and a half from thence to the priory at Cha- 
mounix, to which I had the satisfaction of bringing 
back all my guides in perfectly good health. 

Our reception was at once joyful and affecting; 
for all the relations and friends of the guides came 
to embrace them and congratulate them on their 
return. And my wife, my sister, and my sons, who 
had passed together a long and anxious time at 
Chamounix in the expectation of this expedition, as 
well as several of our friends who came from Geneva 
to join in the welcome,—all expressed at this joyful 
moment the satisfaction which the fears that had 
preceded it, rendered only the more lively and touch¬ 
ing according to the degree of interest which we had 
inspired. 

I remained the next day at Chamounix in order 
to make some comparative observations, after which 
we all returned happily to Geneva, from whence I 
could now look on Mont Blanc with a true pleasure, 
and without that feeling of longing and anxiety 
which it had before caused me. 


H. B. DE Saussure, dans les Alpes. 


11 . 


MONT BLANC. 

ASCENT IN 1844 BY MM. CHARLES MARTINS, 

BRA VAIS, AND LEPILEUR. 

I COME now to the scientific ascent which I made 
in 1844, with my friends Auguste Bravais, a naval 
lieutenant, and Auguste Lepileur, a medical prac¬ 
titioner. 

With the former I had visited Spitzbergen in 
1838 and 1839, during the two campaigns of “ La 
Eecherche ” in the Frozen Ocean. He had wintered 
alone at Bossecop, in Lapland; but we had stayed 
together on the P^aulhorn, in 1841, for eighteen 
days, at a height of 8710 feet. He himself had 
met the following year with the physician, Auguste 
Peltier, and had stayed with him twenty-three days. 
A comparison of the northern regions of the globe 
with high Alpine regions was the habitual subject 
of our conversations. On the F'aulhorn we had 
made a number of observations, and proposed a cer¬ 
tain number of problems which could only be solved 


16 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


by an ascent and a sojourn at a very great height. 
Therefore we thought of Mont Blanc. 

We left Greneva on the 26th of July, and follow¬ 
ing on foot a great four-wheeled waggon which 
carried all that we required, we arrived at Cha- 
mounix on the 28th. The preparations occupied us 
several days. Our design being to stay some time 
as high as possible on Mont Blanc, we had brought 
from Paris a tent for encamping, with its supports 
and stakes, some paletots of goats’ skin, some sheep¬ 
skin sacks, some blankets, &c. 

Our proposed experiments required numerous 
physical and meteorological instruments; food for 
three days was necessary; but each porter could 
only carry about 32 lbs. weight beside his victuals. 
We had altogether about 9561bs. weight to transport 
to a height of 9750 feet above the Valley of Cha- 
mounix- 

Our caravan numbered forty-three persons, of 
whom three were guides, Michel Couttet, Jean Mug- 
nier, and Theodore Balmat; and thirty-five por¬ 
ters, two being young men of the valley who had 
asked to accompany us. On the 31st of July, at 
half-past seven in the morning, we set out from 
Chamounix. 

The weather was fine, only the wind blew from 
the south-west, and the barometer had fallen a 
little; but our preparations were made. We set out 
therefore without feeling perfect confidence in the 
weather, but hoping for speedy improvement. The 
long file of porters extended along the right bank 
































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MONT BLANC. 


17 


of the Arve, in the midst of verdant meadows. But 
when we were arrived in front of the hamlet of 
Les PMerins, we turned to the left. 

The last house in the village was that of Jacques 
Balmat, the first man whose steps were printed on the 
then untrodden snow on the top of Mont Blanc, and 
who perished miserably, in 1834, in the glaciers over 
the Valley of Sixt. Leaving the orchards which 
surround the hamlet of Les Pelerins, we entered a 
forest composed of high fir-trees and old larches, 
on the brambles of which hung the long festoons of 
a grey lichen. In the preceding spring an enor¬ 
mous avalanche, which had descended from the 
Aiguille du Midi, had dug a large furrow in the 
forest. Trees torn up by the roots covered the 
ground which they had once shaded,— others were 
broken in the middle, their tops lying at our fbet; 
while others, only partially injured, bent over the 
valley. These effects are due as much to the pres¬ 
sure of the air driven out by the avalanche,—to the 
local wind which it produces—as to the snow itself. 
The caravan being dispersed into the woods, each 
one chose his own way. 

A straight path goes along the side of the pre¬ 
cipice over which falls the cascade des Pelerins, and 
leads to the moraine of the glacier of Bossons; 
then you mount in the midst of the heaped-up 
blocks wiiicli compose it, and you reach the Pierre 
de TEchelle, an enormous rock under which they 
hide the ladder generally used to cross the crevasses 
of the glacier. This stone is about 7949 feet above 

c 


18 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


tlie sea, at the same elevation as the monastery of St. 
Bernard. It is there that the traveller bids fare¬ 
well to the earth. He quits it to pasfe over the 
glacier, and up to the summit of Mont Blanc he 
only finds isolated rocks which surge like islands in 
the midst of fields of eternal snow. 

The circuit round the glacier of Bossons was, 
as it always is, a chaos of seracs, of needles, and 
of pyramids of ice, in the midst of which is situated 
the eastern wall of the GTrands Mulets. The ver¬ 
tical strata of which these rocks are composed 
rise to various heights, and form steps which 
enable one to climb up to all the points. The 
rock being decomposed under the influence of 
atmospheric agents, the particles collect between 
the layers. In these collections vegetate beautiful 
Alpine plants, sheltered by the rock, warmed by 
the sun which it reflects, and moistened by the 
snow which, even in summer, often whitens these 
peaks, tliough it melts rapidly when the sun shines 
on it for two or three days. In some weeks they go 
through all the phases of their vegetation, and I 
have gathered nineteen phanerogamic plants in three 
ascents. M. Venance-Payot having added five species 
to this list, tliere exist twenty-four flowering plants 
on the Grand Mulets. To these four-and-twenty 
phanerogams, we must add twenty-six species of 
mosses, two hepaticse, and thirty lichens, which 
brings the total number of plants that grow on 
these isolated rocks, in the midst of a sea of ice, rocks 
which appear to be deprived of all vegetation, up to 


MONT BLANC. 


19 


eighty-two. WTio would believe it ? These plants 
serve for nourishment to a little gnawing animal, 
the campagnol of the snow, the only mammifer which 
is found high on the Alps, whilst almost all his brethren 
are inhabitants of the plain. 

Bravais took on himself the task of measuring 
the variations of the magnetic intensity with the 
height. For that purpose a compass is used, in 
which a needle is suspended horizontally by a thread 
of silk not twisted. This needle is made to oscillate 
during a series of intervals of time perfectly equal; 
and from the number of these oscillations after infinite 
corrections and an extreme minuteness, a conclusion 
is arrived at as to the relative intensity of magnetic 
force at the place compared with that of Paris. 
The importance of these measures will be under¬ 
stood, as they will one day disclose to us the now 
mysterious laws of those currents which circulate 
around the terrestrial globe, that colossal magnet, 
the two poles of which do not coincide with the 
two extremities of the ideal axis on which the earth 
describes its daily revolution. 

^Meanwhile the sun was nearing the horizon; 
already he had disappeared behind the Monts Vergy, 
and the valleys of Sallanche and of Chamounix had 
been long in the shade, whilst the neighbouring 
granite points appeared of a white heat like hot iron 
coming out of the fire. Soon the peak of Varens and 
the rocks of the Fiz were extinguished, and the 
shadow gained the glaciers of jNIont Blanc. The 
snows which had been so luminous an instant before. 


20 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


took the dull and livid colour of a corpse ; and cold 
and death seemed to invade these regions with the 
darkness and to reveal all their horrors. The point 
of Groute, the Monts Maudits, successively grew dim ; 
while the top of Mont Blanc alone remained light 
for a little time; then the rosy tint which had en¬ 
livened it gave place also to a livid one, as if life 
had abandoned it in its turn. Towards the horizon, 
above .the sea of clouds, the heavens appeared of a 
light green, the result of the combination of the 
yellow rays of the sun with the blue of the celestial 
vault; and the forms of the clouds were marked out 
by a border of the most brilliant orange. In these 
high regions there is no twilight, night succeeds to 
day quite suddenly. We retired beliind a wall 
made of dry stones which were built up before a 
cavity. Our guides were grouped on the steps of 
the rock around the little fires fed with the wood of 
the juniper, brought by them from the neighbour¬ 
hood of the Pierre de V Echelle; and they sang in 
unison slow and monotonous songs which borrowed 
from the spot a melancholy charm. By little and 
little the songs ceased, and the fires went out. Then 
nothing was heard but the noise of avalanches falling 
from the surrounding heights. Soon the moon rose 
behind the Monts Maudits, and, while still herself 
invisible, showed up in strong relief the Dome de 
Groute, of which the snows seemed to give an extra¬ 
ordinary phosphorescent light. When she showed 
herself above the peak of the Groute, she was sur¬ 
rounded by a greenish halo which stood out clearly 


MONT BLANC. 


21 


on a sky black as ink. The stars also sparkled 
brightly, but the wind had not gone down: it blew 
in strong gusts, followed by moments of perfect 
calm. Everything gave warning of bad weather on 
the morrow, yet no one dreamt of returning; we all 
preferred to try our chance to the very last, and not 
to go back until we found it quite impossible to 
continue the ascent. 

Next day, whilst we were engaged in distribut¬ 
ing anew the burdens of our porters who had changed 
their loads, I perceived all at once an old man, un¬ 
known to us, who was coming slowly up the slope 
which leads to the Petit Plateau. Bending over 
the snow, and assisting himself sometimes with his 
hands, he ascended slowly, but with that equal and 
measured step which indicates a practised • moun¬ 
taineer. This old man turned out to be Marie 
Couttet; he was now eighty years of age, and in 
his youth he had served as guide to De Saussure. 
He still possessed an agility which caused him to be 
named ‘ The Chamois; ’ and he well deserved this 
sobriquet, for no one could have been more intrepid. 
Cne day he accompanied an English traveller in a 
a difficult journey. The traveller preserved that 
phlegmatic and indifferent air which characterises 
the English gentleman. The sight of the most 
slippery passages neither drew from him a gesture 
of astonishment, nor a word which betrayed the 
least hesitation. Irritated by this imperturbable saTi^r- 
frolcl, Couttet spied out a pine cemhro which pro¬ 
jected horizontally over a precipice above a thousand 


22 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


feet in depth; he walked boldly along this trunk, 
and when at the extremity he lay down upon it, and 
lastly, suspended himself by his feet over the pre¬ 
cipice. The Englishman looked on quietly, and 
when Couttet returned to him he gave him a gold 
piece on condition that he would not do so again. 
Such was, in his youth, the man who was before us 
on the lower slopes of the Petit Plateau. His 
mind had become weakened before his body; he 
thought that he had found a new road by which to 
reach the top of Mont Blanc, and offered himself as 
guide to every traveller who attempted tlie ascent. 
Although his offer was declined he accompanied 
them as a volunteer up to a certain height in order 
to point out to them the new road which he had 
discovered. Having been warned of the monomania 
of the old man, we had carefully hidden from him 
the day of our departure, but knowing that we were 
on the Grrand Mulets, he had set off the same even¬ 
ing, had crossed the glacier and arrived about mid¬ 
night at our bivouac, where he took his place by 
the fire among the guides. At dawn he set out 
first to show the way. 

The Grand Plateau is a vast circuit of snow 
and ice, the foundation of which is a plane raised 
towards the south. But we hardly caught a 
glimpse of the configuration of the various objects, 
for before we knew where we were, the clouds had 
completely enveloped us, and snow whirled vio¬ 
lently around our heads. There was no time to 
hesitate; we must either go down immediately 


MONT BLANC. 


23 


or put up our tent. Two porters, Auguste Si- 
mond and Jean Cachat, offered to remain with 
the three guides and us. The others threw down 
their bundles on the snow and precipitated them¬ 
selves in haste towards the Petit Plateau; they 
vanished like shadows in the mist which thick¬ 
ened more and more. Left alone, we began to re¬ 
move the snow about a foot deep for a space of 
about twelve feet by six; then guided by a cord 
prepared beforehand, which was knotted to corre¬ 
spond to the stakes of the tent; we planted in the 
snow long and strong wooden pegs, each of which 
was furnished with a hook. That done, the tent 
was raised on tlie cross piece and the two supports 
which were to sustain it; and the rings of the cords 
were passed over the heads of the pegs. The tent 
set up, we next hastened to put under shelter, first, 
all our instruments, and then all our provisions. 
We were forced to make all possible haste, for several 
bottles of wine left outside could not be found; at 
the end of an hour the snow which fell and that 
which the wind brought up had covered them. 
Under the tent we had improvised a floor with light 
planks of fir-wood placed over the snow. Our guides 
were at one extremity, and we at the other. The 
space was small, and we could not stand upright; 
we were forced either to sit or lie, and the cooking 
was performed in the middle of the tent. Our first 
care was to melt some snow in a jar heated by a 
spirit-lamp, for at these heights charcoal burns 
badly. Bravais hit on the happy idea of pouring 


24 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


this water over the stakes of the tent; the water 
froze, and then, instead of being driven only into the 
yielding snow, these stakes were fixed in masses 
of compact ice. Besides this, a cord fixed to the 
iron pin which joined the horizontal cross piece of 
one of the vertical supports, and attached, like the 
shrouds of a ship, on the side whence came the 
wind, was made fast to two stakes driven into the 
snow. These precautions taken, we had only to 
wait. Every observation was impossible, saving that 
of the barometer inside the tent, and the thermo¬ 
meter outside; the latter was 27° on our arrival; 
at two o’clock it had fallen to 25°, at five o’clock 
to 22°. When night came we lighted a lantern 
which, suspended over our heads, lighted up our 
little interior. The guides huddled together, talked 
in a low voice, or slept as quietly as if in their beds. 
The wind redoubled its force; it blew in squalls, 
interrupted by those moments of profound calm 
which had so much astonished De Saussure when he 
was on the Col du Greant in circumstances exactly 
similar. The tempest raged in the vast amphi¬ 
theatre of snow on the edge of which our little tent 
was placed. Like an avalanche of air, the wind 
appeared to fall on us from the top of Mont Blanc. 
Then the covering of the tent puffed out like a sail 
filled with the breeze ; the supports bent and vibrated 
like the cords of a violin, and the cross-beam bent. 
Instinctively we held up the canvass with our backs 
during these gusts, for our safety depended on the 
firmness of this protecting shelter; if we only took 


MONT BLANC. 


25 


a few steps outside we were able to form an idea of 
what would become of us if it were carried away. 
Never before had I comprehended how travellers 
full of vigour and health could perish at a few 
paces from the place in which the tempest had sur¬ 
prised them; I understood it on that day. Under 
the tent the cold was supportable. The thermo¬ 
meter oscillated between 36° and 38°. Our goat¬ 
skin clothes and our sheepskin sacks protected us 
effectually, altliough the hair of these things be¬ 
came frozen to the tent’s cover. During the night 
the wind abated, but unfortunately the snow con¬ 
tinued to fall, the temperature also became lower 
and lower, and at half-past five in the morning the 
thermometer pointed to 10°. The new snow was 
a foot and a half deep ; but the tent cover was pretty 
free, the wind having swept it off as it fell,' as it 
continued to drive along the sleet and snow of the 
Grand Plateau. The barometer remained as low 
as on the previous evening. In a light moment we 
saw the peaks of Mont Blanc, and of the Monts 
Maudits and Dromadaire, each terminated by a sort 
of tuft of snow which the south-west wind had col¬ 
lected on them. 

To ascend to the summit was impossible, and 
even on the Grand Plateau we were condemned to 
inaction. So we settled our plans, and after having 
arranged our instruments in the tent, we filled up 
the entrance with snow; it was now seven in the 
morning, and the thermometer showed still thir¬ 
teen degrees below freezing. The snow which had 


26 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


just fallen had hidden all the clefts and crevasses; 
hut we tied ourselves together and descended ra¬ 
pidly to the Grrand Mulets. After some moments 
of rest, we then crossed the glacier of Bossons. 
The narrow path which leads to the Pierres-Pointues, 
being covered with fresh snow, was become slippery 
and difficult. Snow had also fallen still lower, as 
far as the place called the Barmes Dessous, only 
about 2500 feet above Chamounix. Our return re¬ 
assured every one : for there had been bad weather 
in the valley as well as on the mountains, and the 
report had spread that we had all perished. 

On the 25th of August fine weather set in ; the 
barometer rose steadily; and the north-west wind 
blew in the upper regions of the air. We knew that 
our tent was still standing on the Grand Plateau; 
for we had seen it from the top of the Prevent; but 
it appeared to be buried in the snow on the south¬ 
west side; and the opposite one seemed to be quite 
disarranged. 

Confident that we should find our instruments 
in good condition, we set out again on the 27th, at 
half-past twelve at night. The moon enlightened 
our march; and at half-past three we were on the 
Pierres-Pointues. The sky was beautifully clear, 
but isolated mists remained on the Col de Balme, 
and on the Mont Vergy. A fresh breeze descending, 
and the slight twinkling of the stars, were signs to us 
of good weather. Castor and Pollux shone with a 
quiet light over the peaks of Charmoz. 

On arriving at the precipitous parts, we followed 





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MONT BLANC. 


27 


each ether very closely, and took care that the 
angles formed by our zig-zags should have an 
opening of at least fifteen degrees. We marched 
knee-deep in snow, of which the temperature was 
always about 12° at a depth of four inches. The 
rarefied state of the air and the depth of the snow, 
from which we were obliged constantly to drag up 
our legs, forced us to walk slowly; every twenty 
steps we stopped quite out of breath, and our feet 
were painfully cold and ready to freeze. During 
our short halts we struck them with a stick, in order 
to warm them. This part of the ascent was very 
fUiguing, though a fine sun and a quiet wind 
favoured our efforts; but, when we reached the 
slope which separates the Eochers-Eouges from the 
Petits-]Mulets, we perceived all at once the moun¬ 
tains situated on the south of Mont Blanc, and 
beyond the plains of Italy. Nothing then sheltered 
u«5 any longer ; the wind from the north-west, im¬ 
perceptible before, took off Mugnier’s hat, and, al- 
though warnaly dressed, I suddenly felt myself as if 
without any clothes, the wind was so cold and pene¬ 
trating. Turning off to the right, we soon arrived 
at the Petits-Mulets, which are protogine rocks, 
situated at less than 500 feet below the summit. 
We were near the end now, but we walked slowly, 
with heads lowered and heaving chests, like a com¬ 
pany of invalids. The effect of tlie rarefaction of 
the air was felt in a painful manner; and every 
minute the column stopped. Bravais tried how long 
lie could go on at his greatest speed, and stopped at 


28 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


the thirty-second step, because he could not take 
one more. At last, at a quarter to two, we reached 
the summit so much desired. It is formed of a 
sort of back-bone turning from the east-north-east 
to the south-south-west; but this ridge or back¬ 
bone is not sharp, as De Saussure found it, but from 
15 to 18 feet wide. 

On the north side it abuts on an immense slope 
of snow of from 40 to 45 degrees, which terminates 
in the Grrand Plateau. On the south side this is 
continued with a little flat surface parallel to the 
ridge, sloping about 10 degrees, and about 300 feet 
wide. This surface is prolonged towards the south, 
or else it joins another steep descent, which sud¬ 
denly stops at the level of the great collection of pre¬ 
cipitous rocks which stand over the Allee Blanche. 
After having taken breath, our first glance was at 
the immense panorama which surrounded us; I will 
not describe it after De Saussure. 

The height of Mont Blanc does not appear to 
have sensibly varied since the first measurement was 
made, in 1775, by Shuckburgh, up to the present 
moment, which is surprising when we consider that 
the summit is formed only of ice and snow of the 
thickness of more than 200 feet. It appears evident 
that Mont Blanc is a pyramid like its neighbour, 
the Aiguille du Midi. The Eochers-Kouges, the 
Petits-Mulets, and the Tourette, are all striking 
points of this pyramid; the rest is covered with a 
cap of snow, which never melts, on account of the 
height of the mountain, on the top of which the 


MONT BLANC. 


29 


temperature is rarely up to freezing point, and 
almost always very much below it. 

We may ask, then, how it is that the thickness 
of this cap of snow is invariable, and that the alti¬ 
tude of the mountain does not change in the course 
of seasons or even years. And, in fact, the quantity 
I of snow which falls, the winds wliich sweep it, and 
I the evaporation which diminishes the thickaess, as 
I well as the condensation of the clouds which in- 
j crease it — all these do vary from year to year; so 
f that the form of the summit is never the same. 

Let any one compare the description of De Saus- 
: sure, of Clissold, of Markham Sherwill, of Henry de 
Tilly, and of Bravais, made successively in 1787, 1822, 
1827, 1834, and 1844, and he will see that each of 
these travellers found a different form, with the ex¬ 
ception of tlie fundamental feature, a sloping ridge 
running from east to west. How could it be other¬ 
wise? Snows fall on Mont Blanc, which are brought 
there by all the winds of the compass; they have 
hardly fallen before they are swept, displaced, and 
carried away, so that the surface looks like a ploughed 
field. Even in fine weather, when the most perfect 
calm reigns in the plain, a light smoke seems to issue 
from the top, which is drawn off horizontally by a 
violent wind. ‘ Then,’ say the Savoyards, ‘ Mont 
Blanc smokes his pipe.’ And it is a sign of fine 
weather if the smoke goes towards the south. It 
comes to this, however, that all tliese various causes 
of ablation and of addition compensate one another ; 
and the height of the peak remains the same. 





30 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


Nature never proceeds otherwise; nothing is ab¬ 
solutely stable : everything oscillates, from the small¬ 
est particle to the ocean. And this oscillation 
around a middle state is the condition of life ; it 
is immobility which is a sign of death; and the 
general powers of nature, which regulate the inor¬ 
ganic as well as the organic world, never rest. 

The meteorological and geodesic operations were 
hardly finished when the sun approached the lines 
of the Jura, in the direction of Greneva; it was a 
quarter past six; the thermometer showed for the 
temperature of the air, 11°; for that of the snow 
on the surface, zero, and 7° at the depth of 8 
inches. The contact with this snow even through our 
boots was a real suffering. Nevertheless, we were 
very anxious to make signal fires, which should 
be visible at the same time at Greneva, L 3 mns, and 
Dijon, where the astronomers were forewarned: 
and these signals, seen simultaneously at the three 
cities,‘’might have enabled them to determine exactly 
their differences of longitude; but the cold was so 
extreme that we saw that to remain longer would 
have been to risk our own lives and those of the 
guide. Auguste Simond was willing to remain 
alone to make these signals; but we refused our 
permission, and we did well. Since then the elec¬ 
tric telegraph has enabled us to obtain, without 
stirring and without trouble, a result which would, 
perhaps, have been purchased by the life of the 
father of a family. 

Our return was resolved on, and we had begun 


MONT BLANC. 


31 


to descend, when we were stopped all at once before 
the most extraordinary sight that a man could 
behold. The shadow of IMont Blanc, forming an 
immense cone, extended itself over the white moun¬ 
tains of Piedmont: it advanced slowly towards the 
horizon, and rose in the air above the Becca di 
Nonna; but then the shadows of the other moun¬ 
tains came in succession to join it, in proportion as 
the sun sank below their peaks, and formed a 
cortege to the shadow of the ruler of the Alps. 
All, by the effect of perspective, converged towards 
it; and these shadows, of a greenish blue at their 
base, were surrounded by a strong purple tint, which 
melted into the red of the heavens. A poet might 
have said that angels with flaming wings were 
bending round a throne on which sat an invisible 
Grod. The shadows disappeared in the sky, yet we 
were still nailed to tlie spot, immovable, though not 
mute, with astonishment; for our admiration broke 
fortli in the most various exclamations. Only the 
aurora borealis of the north of Europe could produce 
a spectacle comparable in magnificence to this un¬ 
expected phenomenon, which no one before us had 
witnessed from the summit of Mont Blanc. 

The sun set; and we were obliged to go forward. 
We were, first, all attached to one cord, and tlien 
we plunged downwards towards the Grand Plateau. 
In passing near the Petits-Mulets, I picked up two 
stones on the snow, which I afterwards discovered to 
be fragments of rock broken off by the thunderbolts 
which so often fall on these mountain-tops. After 


32 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


starting from the Petits-Mulets, we stopped no more, 
but descended like an avalanche in a straight line, 
without choosing our route; each one being pulled 
on by him who preceded him, and Mugnier, who 
went first, threw himself bounding over the declivity, 
plunging at each spring deep into the snow, which 
thus moderated just sufficiently the impetus of the 
moving chain. Arrived at the Grrand Plateau, 
we were obliged to stop a moment for breath ; then, 
with rapid steps, we made for our tent, which we 
reached at a quarter to eight. In fifty-five minutes 
we had descended from the peak, a distance of 2800 
feet. Wfiien we entered our tent, we felt as if once 
again by the domestic hearth, and there we enjoyed 
a well-earned repose. But, notwithstanding, the me¬ 
teorological observations were continued heroically 
every two hours during the night. 


Charles Martins, Du Spitzherg au Sahara. 


III. 

THE FINSTERAAEHORN. 

ASCENT in 1858 BY J. TYNDALL. 

Since my arrival at the hotel, on the 30th of July, I 
had once or twice spoken about ascending the Fin- 
steraarhorn; and on the 2d of August my host ad¬ 
vised me to avail myself of the promising weather. 
A guide, named Bennen, was attached to the hotel, 
a remarkable-looking man, between thirty and forty 
years old, of middle stature, but very strongly built. 
His countenance was frank and firm, while a light of 
good nature at times twinkled in his eye. Alto¬ 
gether the man gave me the impression of physical 
strength, combined with decision of character. The 
proprietor had spoken to me many times of the 
strength and courage of this man, winding up his 
praises of him by the assurance that if I were killed 
in Bennen’s company, there would be two lives lost; 
for that the guide would assuredly sacrifice himself 
in the effort to save his Herr, 


D 


34 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


He was called ; and I asked him whether he 
would accompany me alone to the top of the Fin- 
steraarhorn. To this he at first objected, urging 
the possibility of his having to render me assist¬ 
ance, and the great amount of labour wliich this 
might entail upon him ; but this was overruled by 
my engaging to follow where he led, without asking 
him to render me any help whatever. He then 
agreed to make the trial, stipulating, however, that 
he should not have much to carry to the cave of the 
Faulberg, where we were to spend the night. To 
this I cordially agreed, and sent on blankets, provi¬ 
sions, wood, and hay, by two porters. 

My desire, in part, was to make a series of ob¬ 
servations at the summit of the mountain, while a 
similar series was made by Professor Ramsay, in the 
valley of the Rhone, near Viesch, with a view to 
ascertaining the permeability of the lower strata of 
the atmosphere to the radiant heat of the sun. 
During the forenoon of the 2nd, I occupied myself 
with my instruments, and made the proper arrange¬ 
ments with Ramsay. I tested a mountain thermo¬ 
meter which Mr. Casella had kindly lent me, and 
found the boiling point of water on the dining-room 
table of the hotel to be 199°*29 Fahrenheit. 

At about three o’clock in the afternoon, we 
quitted the hotel, and proceeded leisurely with our 
two guides up the slope of the Eggischhorn. We 
once caught a sight of the topmost pinnacle of the 
Finsteraarhorn; beside it was the Rothhorn, and 
near this again the Oberaarhorn, with the Viesch 


THE FINSTERAARHORN. 


35 


glacier streaming from its shoulders. On the oppo¬ 
site side we could see, over an oblique buttress of 
the mountain on which we stood, the snowy summit 
of the Weisshorn ; to the left of this was the ever 
grim and lonely Matterhorn; and farther to the left, 
with its numerous snow-cones, each with its at¬ 
tendant sliadow, rose the mighty ]\Iischabel. We 
descended, and crossed the stream which flows from 
the iMdrjelen See, into which a large mass of the 
glacier liad recently fallen, and which was now afloat 
as an iceberg. We passed along the margin of the 
lake, and at the junction of water and ice I bade 
Eamsay good-bye. At the commencement of our 
journey upon the ice, whenever we crossed a cre¬ 
vasse, I noticed Bennen watching me; his vigilance, 
however, soon diminished, whence I gathered that 
he finally concluded that I was able to take care of 
myself. Clouds hovered in the atmospher^hrough- 
out the whole time of our ascent; one smoky-looking 
mass marred the glory of the sunset, but at some 
distance was another, which exhibited colours almost 
as rich and varied as those of the solar spectrum. 
I took the glorious banner thus unfurled as a sign of 
hope, to check the despondency which its gloomy 
neighbour was calculated to produce. 

Two hours’ walking brought us near our place 
of rest; the porters had already reached it, and were 
now returning. We deviated to the right, and having 
crossed some ice-ravines, reached the lateral moraine 
of the glacier, and picked our way between it and 
the adjacent mountain wall. We then reached a 


36 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


kind of amphitheatre, crossed it, and, climbing the 
opposite slope, came to a triple grotto, formed by 
clefts in the mountains. In one of these a pine-fire 
was soon blazing briskly, and casting its red light 
upon the surrounding objects, though but half dis¬ 
pelling the gloom from the deeper portions of the cell. 
I left the grotto, and climbed the rocks above it to 
look at the heavens. The sun had quitted our fir¬ 
mament, but still tinted the clouds with red and 
purple, while one peak of snow in particular glowed 
like fire, so vivid was its illumination. During our 
journey upwards, the Jungfrau never once showed 
her head, but, as if in ill temper, had wrapped her 
vapoury veil around her. She now looked more 
good-humoured, but still she did not quite remove 
her hood, though all the other summits, without a 
trace of cloud to mark their beautiful forms, pointed 
heavenward. The calmness was perfect ; no sound 
of living creature, no whisper of a breeze, no gurgle 
of water, no rustle of debris, to break the deep and 
solemn silence. Surely if beauty be an object of 
worship, those glorious mountains, with rounded 
shoulders of the purest white snow, crested and star- 
gemmed, were well calculated to excite sentiments of 
adoration. 

I returned to the grotto, where supper was pre¬ 
pared and waiting for me. The boiling point of 
water, at the level of the " kitchen floor,’ I found to 
be 196° Fahr. Nothing could be more picturesque 
than the aspect of the ceil before we went to rest. 
The fire was gleaming ruddily. I sat upon a stone 


THE FINSTERAARHORX. 


37 


bench beside it, while Bennen was in front with tlie 
red light glimmering fitfully over him. My boiling 
water apparatus, which had just been used, was in 
the foreground ; and telescopes, opera-glasses, haver¬ 
sacks, wine-keg, bottles, and mattocks, lay con¬ 
fusedly around. The heavens continued to grow 
clearer, the thin clouds, which had partially over¬ 
spread the sky, melting gradually away. The grotto 
was comfortable, the hay sufficient materially to mo¬ 
dify the hardness of the rock, and my position at 
least sheltered and warm. One possibility remained 
that might prevent me from sleeping—the snoring 
of my companion ; he assured me, however, that he 
did not snore, and we lay down side by side. The 
good fellow took care that I should not be chilled; 
he gave me the best place, by far the best part of 
the clothes, and may have suffered himself in con¬ 
sequence ; but happily for him he was soon oblivious 
of this. Physiologists, I believe, have discovered 
that it is chiefly during sleep that the muscles are 
repaired; and ere long the sound I dreaded an¬ 
nounced to me at once the repair of Bennen’s 
muscles and the doom of my own. The hollow cave 
resounded to the deep-drawn snore. I once or twice 
stirred the sleeper, breaking thereby the continuity 
of the phenomenon ; but it instantly pieced itself 
together again, and went on as before. I had not 
the heart to wake him, for I knew that on him 
would devolve the chief labour of the coming day. 
At half-past one he rose and prepared coffee, and 
at two I was engaged upon the beverage. \Ve after- 


38 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


wards packed our provisions and instruments ; 
Bennen bore the former and I the latter, and at 
three o’clock we set out. 

We first descended a steep slope to the glacier, 
along which we walked for a time. A spur of the 
Faulberg jutted out between us and the inladen 
valley through which we must pass; this we crossed 
in order to shorten our way to avoid crevasses. Loose 
shingle and boulders overlaid the mountain; and 
here and there walls of rock opposed our progress, 
and rendered the route far from agreeable. We 
then descended to the Grriinliorn tributary, which 
joins the trunk glacier at nearly a right angle, 
being terminated by a saddle which stretches 
across from mountain to mountain, with a curvature 
as graceful and as perfect as if drawn by the instru¬ 
ment of a mathematician. Tlie unclouded moon 
was shining; and the Jungfrau was before us 
so'pure and beautiful that the thought of visiting 
the ‘ Maiden’ without further preparation occurred 
to me. I turned to Bennen, and said: ‘ Shall we 
try the Jungfrau?’ I think he liked the idea well 
enough, though he cautiously avoided any respon¬ 
sibility. ‘ If you desire it, I am ready,’ was his 
reply. He had never made the ascent, and nobody 
knew anything -of the state of the snow this year; 
but Lauener had examined it through a telescope 
on the previous day, and pronounced it dangerous. 
In every ascent of the mountain hitherto made, 
ladders had been found indispensable; but we 
had none. I questioned Bennen as to what he 


THE FINSTERAARHORN. 


39 


thought of the probabilities, and tried to extract 
gome direct encouragement from him; but he said 
that the decision rested altogether with myself, and 
it was his business to endeavour to carry out that 
decision. ‘ We will attempt it, then,’ I said; and 
for some time we actually walked towards the Jung¬ 
frau. A grey cloud drew itself across her summit, 
and clung there. I asked myself why I deviated 
from my original intention ? The Finsteraarhorn 
was higher, and therefore better suited for the con¬ 
templated observations. I could in no wise justify 
the change, and finally expressed my scruples. A 
moment’s further conversation caused us to ‘ right 
about,’ and front the saddle of the Griinhorn. 

The dawn advanced. The eastern sky became 
illuminated and warm, and high in the air across the 
ridge in front of us stretched a tongue of cloud like 
a red flame, and equally fervid in its hue. Looking 
across the trunk glacier, a valley which is terminated 
by the Lotsch saddle, was seen in a straight line with 
our route; and I often turned to look along this 
magnificent corridor. The mightiest mountains in 
the Oberland form its sides; still the impression 
which it makes is not that of vastness or sublimity, 
but of loveliness not to be described. The sun had 
not yet smitten the snows of the bounding moun¬ 
tains; but the saddle curved out a segment of the 
heavens which formed a background of unspeakable 
beauty. Over the rim of the saddle the sky was 
deep orange passing upwards through amber, yellow, 
and vague ethereal green to the ordinary firmamental 


40 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


blue. Eight above the snow-curve purple clouds 
hung perfectly motionless,, giving depth to the 
spaces between them. There was something saintly 
on the scene. Anything more exquisite I had never 
beheld. 

We marched upwards over the smooth crisp snow 
to the crest of the saddle, and here I turned to take 
a last look along that grand corridor, and at that 
wonderful ^ daffodil sky.’ The sun’s rays had already 
smitten the snows of the Aletschhorn, the radiance 
seemed to infuse a principle of life and activity into 
the mountains and glaciers; but still that holy light 
shone forth, and those motionless clouds floated 
beyond, reminding one of that Eastern religion whose 
essence is the repression of all action, and the sub¬ 
stitution for it of immortal calm. The Finsteraar- 
horn now fronted us; but clouds turbaned the head 
of the giant, and hid it from our view. The wind, 
however, being north, inspired us with a strong hope 
that they would melt as the day advanced. I have 
hardly seen a finer ice-field than that which now lay 
before us. Considering the which supplies it, 
it appeared to me that the Viescher glacier ought to 
discharge as much ice as the Aletsch; but this is an 
error due to the extent of neve, which is here at once 
visible ; since a glance at the map of this portion of 
the Oberland shows at once the great superiority of 
the mountain treasury from whicli the Aletsch glacier 
draws support. Still, the ice-field before us was a 
most noble one. The surrounding mountains were 
of imposing magnitude, and loaded to their summits 


THE FINSTEKAARHORX. 


41 


with snow. Down the sides of some of them the 
half-consolidated mass fell in a state of wild fracture 
and confusion. In some cases the riven masses were 
twisted and overturned, the ledges bent, and the 
detached blocks piled one upon another in heaps ; 
while in other cases the smooth white mass de¬ 
scended from crown to base without a wrinkle. The 
valley now below us was gorged by the frozen ma¬ 
terial thus incessantly poured into it. We crossed 
it, and reached the base of the Finsteraarhorn, as¬ 
cended the moimtain a little way, and at six o’clock 
passed to lighten our burdens and to refresh our¬ 
selves. 

The north wind had freshened; we were in the 
shade, and the cold was very keen. Placing a bottle 
of tea and a small quantity of provisions in the 
knapsack, and a few figs and dried prunes in our 
pockets, we commenced the ascent. Tlie Fin¬ 
steraarhorn sends down a number of cliffy buttresses, 
separated from each other by wide couloirs filled 
with ice and snow. We ascended one of these but¬ 
tresses for a time, treading cautiously among the 
spiky rocks; afterwards we went along the snow 
at the edge of the spine, and then fairly parted com¬ 
pany with the rock, abandoning ourselves to the 
neve of the couloir. The latter was steep, and the 
snow so firm that steps had to be cut in it. Once I 
paused upon a little ledge, which gave me a slight 
footing, and took the inclination. The slope formed 
an angle of 45° with the horizon ; and across it, at a 
little distance below me, a gloomy fissure opened its 


42 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


jaws. The sun now cleared the summits which had 
before cut off his rays, and burst upon us with great 
power, compelling us to resort to our veils and dark 
spectacles. Two years before Bennen had been 
nearly blinded by inflammation, brought on by the 
glare of the snow, and he now took unusual care in 
protecting his eyes. The rocks looking more prac¬ 
ticable, we again made towards them, and clambered 
among them till a vertical precipice, which proved 
impossible of ascent, fronted us. Bennen scanned 
the obstacle closely as we slowly approached it, and 
finally descended to the snow, which wound at a 
steep angle round its base; on this the footing ap¬ 
peared to me to be singularly insecure; but I marched 
without hesitation or anxiety in the footsteps of my 
guide. 

We ascended the rocks once more, continued 
along them for some time, and then deviated to the 
couloir on our left. This snow-slope is much dis¬ 
located at its lower portion, and above its precipices 
and crevasses our route now lay. The snow was 
smooth, and sufficiently firm and steep to render the 
cutting of steps necessary. Bennen took the lead ; 
to make each step he swung his mattock once, and 
his hindermost foot rose exactly at the moment the 
mattock descended; there was thus a kind of rhythm 
in his motion, the raising of the foot keeping time 
to the swing of the implement. In this manner we 
proceeded till we reached the base of the rocky 
pyramid which capped the mountain. 

One side of the pyramid had been sliced off, thus 


THE FINSTERAAKHORN. 


43 


dropping down almost a sheer precipice for some 
thousands of feet to the Finsteraar glacier. A wall 
of rock, about ten or fifteen feet high, runs along the 
edge of the mountain, and this sheltered us from the 
north wind, which, surged with the sound of waves 
against the tremendous barrier at the other side. 
‘ Our hardest work is now before us,’ said my guide. 
Our way lay up the steep and splintered rocks, 
among which we sought out the spikes which were 
closely enough wedged to bear our weight. Each 
had to trust to himself; and I fulfilled to the letter 
my engagement with Bennen to ask no help. My 
boiling-water apparatus and telescope were on my 
back, much to my annoyance, as the former was 
heavy, and sometimes swung awkwardly round as I 
twisted myself among the cliffs. Bennen offered to 
take it; but he had his own share to carry, and I was 
resolved to bear mine. Sometimes the rocks alter¬ 
nated with spaces of ice and snow, which we were at 
intervals compelled to cross; sometimes when the 
slope was pure ice and very steep, we were compelled 
to retreat to the highest cliffs. The wall to which 
I have referred had given way in some places, 
and through the gaps thus formed the wind rushed 
with a loud, wild, wailing sound. Tlirough these 
spaces I could see the entire field of Agassiz’s obser¬ 
vations; the junction of the Lauteraar and Fins¬ 
teraar glaciers at the Abschwung, the medial moraine 
between them, on which stood the Hotel des Neuf- 
chatelois, and the pavilion built by ]\r. Dollfus, in 
which Huxley and myself had found shelter two 


44 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


years before. Bennen was evidently anxious to 
reach the summit, and recommended all observa¬ 
tions to be postponed until after our success had 
been assured. I agreed to this, and kept close at 
his heels. Strong as he was, he sometimes paused, 
laid his head upon his mattock, and panted like a 
chased deer. lie complained of fearful thirst, and 
to quench it we had only my bottle of tea ; this we 
shared loyally, my guide praising its virtues, as 
well he might. Still the summit loomed above us ; 
still the angry swell of the north wind beating 
against the torn battlements of the mountains, made 
wild music. Upward, however, we strained; and 
at last, on gaining the crest of a rock, Bennen ex¬ 
claimed, in a jubilant voice, ‘Die hochste Spitze !^— 
the highest point. In a moment I was at his side, 
and saw the summit within a few paces of us. A 
minute or two placed us upon the topmost pinnacle, 
with the blue dome of heaven above us, and a world 
of mountains, clouds, and glaciers beneath. 

A notion is entertained by many of the guides 
that if you go to sleep on the summit of any of the 
highest mountains you will 

‘ Sleep the sleep that knows no waking.’ 

Bennen did not appear to entertain this superstition, 
and before starting in the morning I had stipulated 
for ten minutes’ sleep on reaching the summit, as 
part compensation for the loss of the night’s rest. 
My first act, after casting a glance over the glorious 
scene beneath us, was to take advantage of this 



'1 11K FIN S'l’E k A A k H O KN. 































4 ' 





* 


t 


« 




'I 








THE FINSTERAAKHORN. 


45 


agreement; so I lay down and had five minutes’ 
sleep, from which I rose refreslied and brisk. The 
sun at first beat down upon us with intense force; 
and I exposed my thermometers; but thin veils 
of vapour soon drew themselves before the sun, 
and denser mists spread over the valley of the Rhone, 
thus destroying all possibility of concert between 
Ramsay and myself. I turned, therefore, to my 
boiling-water apparatus, filled it with snow, melted 
the first charge, put more in, and boiled it, ascertain¬ 
ing the boiling point to be 187° P'ahrenheit. On a 
sheltered ledge, about two or three yards south of 
the highest point, I placed a minimum thermometer, 
in the hope that it would enable us in future years 
to record the lowest winter temperatures at the 
summit of the mountain.* 

It is difficult to convey any just impression of 
the scene from the summit of the Finsteraarhorn: 
one mioht, it is true, arrange the visible mountains 
in a list, stating their heights and distances, and 
leaving the imagination to furnish them with peaks 
and pinnacles, to build the precipices, polish the 
snow, rend the glaciers, and cap the highest 
summits with appropriate clouds. But if imagina¬ 
tion did its best in this way, it would hardly exceed 
the reality, and would certainly omit many details 
which contribute to the grandeur of the scene itself. 
The various shapes of the mountains—some grand, 

* This thermometer was found in August 1859, and the 
reading of the index was —32® Cent. 


46 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


some beautiful—bathed in yellow sunshine, or lying 
black and riven under the frown of impervious cumuli; 
the pure white peaks, cornices, bosses, and amphi¬ 
theatres ; the blue ice-rifts, the stratified snow pre¬ 
cipices, the glaciers issuing from the hollows of the 
eternal hills, and stretching like frozen serpents 
through the sinuous valleys ; the lower cloud-field— 
itself an empire of vaporous hills — shining with 
dazzling whiteness, while here and there gi’im sum¬ 
mits, brown by nature, and black by contrast, 
pierced through it like volcanic islands through a 
shining sea. Add to this, the consciousness of one’s 
position, which clings to one unconsciously, that 
under-current of emotion which surrounds the ques¬ 
tion of one’s personal safety, at a height of more 
than 14,000 feet above the sea, and which is increased 
by the weird strange sound of the wind surging with 
the full deep boom of the distant sea against the 
precipice behind, or rising to higher cadences as 
it forces itself through the crannies of the weather¬ 
worn rocks—all conspire to render the scene from 
the Finsteraarhorn worthy of the monarch of the 
Bernese Alps. 

My guide at length warned me that we must be 
moving, repeating the warning more impressively 
before I attended to it. We packed up, and as we 
stood beside each other ready to march, he asked me 
whether we should tie ourselves together, at the same 
time expressing his belief that it was unnecessary. 
Up to this time we had been separate, and the thought 
of attaching ourselves had not occurred to me till he 


THE FINSTERAARHORX. 


47 


mentioned it. I thought it, liowever, prudent to 
accept the suggestion; and so we united our destinies 
hy a strong rope. ‘Now,’ said Bennen, ‘ have no 
fear ; no matter how you throw yourself, I will hold 
you.’ Afterwards, on another perilous summit, I 
repeated this saying of Bennen’s to a strong and 
active guide; but his observation was that it was a 
hardy untruth, for that in many places Bennen 
could not have held me. Nevertheless a daring word 

o 

strengthens the heart, and though I felt no trace of 
that sentiment which Bennen exhorted me to banish, 
and was determined, as far as in me lay, to give him 
no opportunity of trying his strength in saving me, I 
liked the fearless utterance of the man, and sprang 
cheerily after him. Our descent was rapid, appa¬ 
rently reckless, amid loose spikes, hoidders, and 
vertical prisms of rock, where a false step would as¬ 
suredly have been attended "with broken bones; but 
the consciousness of certainty in our movements 
never forsook us, and proved a source of keen enjoy¬ 
ment. The senses were all awake, the eye clear, the 
heart strong, the limbs steady, yet flexible, with 
power of recovery in store, and ready for instant 
action should the footing give way. Such is the 
discipline which a perilous ascent imposes. 

We finally quitted the crest of rocks, and got 
fairly upon the snow once more. We first went 
downwards at a long swinging trot. The sun having 
melted the crust which we were compelled to cut 
through in the morning, the leg at each plunge sank 
deeply into the snow; but this sinking was partly in 


48 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the direction of the slope of the mountains, and hence 
assisted our progress. Sometimes the crust was hard 
enough to enable us to glide upon it for long dis¬ 
tances while standing erect; but the end of these 
glissades was always a plunge and tumble in the 
deeper snow. Once upon a steep hard slope Bennen’s 
footing gave way; he fell, and went down rapidly, 
pulling me after him. I fell also, but turning 
quickly, drove the spike of my hatchet into the ice, 
got good anchorage, and held both fast ;—my success 
assuring me that I had improved as a mountaineer 
since my ascent of Mont Blanc. We tumbled so 
often in the soft snow, and our clothes and boots were 
so full of it, that we thought we might as well try the 
sitting posture in gliding down. We did so, and 
descended with extraordinary velocity, being checked 
at intervals by a bodily immersion in the softer and 
deeper snow. I was usually in front of Bennen, 
shooting down with the speed of an arrow, and feel¬ 
ing the check of the rope when the rapidity of my 
motion exceeded my guide’s estimate of what was 
safe. Sometimes I was behind him, and darted at 
intervals with the swiftness of an avalanche right 
upon him, sometimes in the transverse line with him, 
with the full length of the rope between us; and 
here I found its check unpleasant, as it tended to 
make me roll over. My feet were usually in the air, 
and it was only necessary to turn them right or left, 
like the helm of a boat, to change the direction of 
motion and avoid a difficulty, while a vigorous dig 
of leg and hatchet into the snow was sufficient to 


THE FIXSTERAARHORN. 


49 


check the motion and bring us to rest. Swiftly, yet 
cautiously, we glided into the region of crevasses, 
where we at last rose, quite wet, and resumed our 
walking, until we reached the point where we had left 
our wine in the morning, and where I squeezed the 
water from my wet clothes, and partially dried them 
in the sun. 

We had left some things at tlie cave of the 
Faulberg; and it was Bennen’s first intention to re¬ 
turn that way and take them home with him. Pend¬ 
ing, however, that we could traverse tlie Viescher 
glacier almost to the Eggischhorn, I made this 
our highway homewards. At the place where we 
entered it, and for an hour or two afterwards, the 
glacier was cut by fissures, for the most part covered 
with snow. We had packed up our rope ; and Bennen 
admonished me to tread in his steps. Three or four 
times he half disappeared in the concealed fissures, 
but by clutching the snow he rescued himself and 
went on as swiftly as before. Once my leg sank, and 
the ring of icicles, some fifty feet below, told me that 
I was in the jaws of a crevasse; my guide turned 
sharply—it was the only time that I liad seen concern 
on bis countenance,— 

‘ Sie haben meine Tritte nicht gefolgt.^ 

‘ Dock /’ was my only reply, and we went on. He 
scarcely ever tried the snow that he crossed, as from 
its form and colour he could in most cases judge of 
its condition. For a long time we kept at the left- 
hand side of the glacier, avoiding the fissures, which 
were now permanently open. We came upon the 

E 


5C 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


tracks of a herd of chamois, which had clambered 
from the glacier up the sides of the Oberaarhorn, and 
afterwards crossed the glacier to the right-hand side, 
my guide being perfect master of the ground. His 
eyes went in advance of his steps ; and his judgment 
was formed before his legs moved. The glacier was 
deeply fissured; but there was no swerving, no re¬ 
treating, no turning back to seek more practicable 
routes; each stride told, and every stroke of the axe 
was a profitable investment of labour. 

We left the glacier for a time, and proceeded 
along the mountain side, till we came near the end 
of the Trift glacier, where we let ourselves down an 
awkward face of rock along the track of a little cas¬ 
cade, and came upon the glacier once more. Here 
again I had occasion to admire the knowledge and 
promptness of my guide. The glacier, as is well 
known, is greatly dislocated, and has once or twice 
proved a prison to guides and travellers; but Bennen 
led me through the confusion without a pause. We 
were sometimes in the middle of the glacier, some¬ 
times on the moraine, and sometimes on the side of 
the flanking mountain. Towards the end of the day 
we crossed what seemed to be the consolidated re¬ 
mains of a great avalanche ; on this my foot slipped ; 
there was a crevasse at hand, and a sudden effott was 
necessary to save me from falling into it. In making 
this effort, the spoke of my axe turned uppermost, 
and the palm of my hand came down upon it, thus 
inflicting a very angry wound. We were soon upon 
the green cliff, having bidden a last farewell to the 


THE FINSTERAARHORN. 


51 


ice. Anotlier hour’s liard walking brought us to 
our hotel. No one seeing us crossing the Alps 
would have supposed that we had laid such a day’s 
work behind us; the proximity of home gave vigour 
to our strides, and our progress was much more 
speedy than it had been on starting in the morning. 
I was affectionately welcomed by Kamsay, had a 
warm bath, dined, went to bed, where I lay locked 
in sleep for eight hours, and rose next morning as 
fresh and vigorous as if I had never scaled the Fin- 
steraarhorn. 


John Tyndall, Glaciers of the Alps. 


52 


IV. 

THE PEAK OF MOKTEKATSCH. 

ASCENT IN 1864 BY J. TYNDALL. 

Towards the end of last July, while staying at 
Pontresina, in Ober Engadin, I was invited by two 
friends to join in an expedition up the Pic Mor- 
teratsch. This I willingly did, for I wished to look 
at the configuration of the Alps from some com¬ 
manding point in the Bernina mountains, and also 
to learn something of the capabilities of the Pon¬ 
tresina guides. 

We took two of them with us—Jenni, who is the 
man of greatest repute among them, and Walter, 
who is the head of the bureau of guides. We pro¬ 
posed to ascend by the Eoseg, and to return by the 
Morteratsch glacier, thus making a circuit, instead 
of retracing our steps. 

About eight hours of pleasant, healthful exertion 
placed us on the Morteratsch, where we remained for 
an hour, and where the conviction forced on my 


THE PEAK OF MORTERATSCH. 


53 


mind on many another summit was renewed; namely, 
that these mountains and valleys are not, as sup¬ 
posed by the renowned President of the Geographical 
Society, ridges and heaps tossed up by the earth’s 
central fires, with great fissures between them, but 
that ice and water, acting through long ages, have 
been the real sculptors of the Alps. 

Jenni is a heavy man, and marches rather slowly 
up a mountain; but he is a thoroughly competent 
mountaineer. We were particularly pleased with 
his performance in descending. He swept down the 
slope, and cleared the ^schrouds’ which cut the 
upper snows with great courage and skill. We at 
length reached the point at which it was necessary 
to quit our morning’s track, and immediately after¬ 
wards got upon some steep rocks, which were ren¬ 
dered slippery here and there by the water which 
trickled over them. To our right was a broad 
couloir, which was once filled mth snow, but this had 
been melted and re-frozen, so as to expose a sloping 
wall of ice. We were all tied together at this time 
in the following order:—Jenni led, I came next, then 
my friend H., our intrepid mountaineer, then his 
friend L., and last of all the guide Walter. L. had 
had but little experience of the higher Alps, and was 
placed in front of Walter, so that any false step on. 
his part might be instantly checked. After descend¬ 
ing the rocks for a time, Jenni turned and asked me 
whether I thought it better to adhere to them, or to 
try the ice-slope to our right. I pronounced in 
favour of the rocks; but he seemed to misunderstand 


54 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


me, and turned towards the couloir. I stopped him 
before he reached it, and said, ‘ Jenni, you know 
where you are going, the slope is pure ice ?’ He re¬ 
plied, ‘ I know it, but the ice is quite bare for a few 
yards only. Across this exposed portion I will cut 
steps, and then the snow which covers the ice will 
give us footing.’ He cut the steps, reached the snow, 
and descended carefully along it—all following him, 
apparently in good order. After a little time he 
stopped, turned, and looked upward at the last three 
men. He said something about keeping carefully to 
the tracks, adding that a false step might detach an 
avalanche. The word was scarcely uttered when I 
heard the sound of a fall behind me, then a rush, and 
in the twinkling of an eye my two friends and their 
guide—all apparently entangled together, whirled 
past me. I suddenly planted myself to resist their 
shock, but in an instant I was in their wake, for 
their impetus was irresistible. A moment afterwards 
Jenni was whirled away, and thus all of us found 
ourselves riding downwards with uncontrollable speed 
on the back of an avalanche which a single slip had 
originated. 

When thrown back by the jerk of the rope, I 
turned promptly on my face, and drove my baton 
through the moving snow, seeking to anchor it in 
the ice underneath. I had held it firmly thus for a 
few seconds, when I came into collision with some 
obstacle, and was rudely tossed through the air, 
Jenni at the same time being shot down upon me. 
Both of us here lost our batons. We had, in fact. 


THE PEAK OF MORTERATSCH. 


55 


been carried over a crevasse, had hit its lower edge, 
our great velocity causing us to be pitched beyond 
it. I was quite bewildered for a moment, but im¬ 
mediately righted myself, and could see those in 
front of me half buried in the snow, and jolted from 
side to side by the ruts, among which they were 
passing. Suddenly I saw them tumbled over by a 
lurch of the avalanche, and immediately afterwards 
found myself imitating their motion. This was 
caused by a second crevasse. Jenni knew of its exist¬ 
ence, and plunged right into it — a brave and 
manful action, but for the time unavailing. He was 
over thirteen stone in weight, and he thought that 
by jumping into the chasm a strain might be put 
upon the rope sufficient to check the motion. He 
was, however, violently jerked out of the fissure, and 
almost squeezed to death by the pressure of the 
rope. 

A long slope was before us, which led directly 
downwards to a brow where the glacier suddenly fell 
in a declivity of ice. At the base of this declivity 
the glacier was cut by a series of profound chasms; 
and towards these we were now rapidly borne. The 
three foremost men rode upon the forehead of the 
avalanche, and were at times almost wholly immersed 
in the snow; but the moving layer was thinner 
behind, and Jenni rose incessantly, and with despe¬ 
rate energy drove his feet into the firmer substance 
underneath. His voice shouting, ^ Halt, Herr Jesus, 
halt r was the only one heard during the descent. A 
kind of condensed memory, such as that described 


56 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


by people who have narrowl} escaped drowning, took 
possession of me; and I thought and reasoned with 
preternatural clearness as I rushed along. Our start, 
however, was too sudden, and the excitement too 
great, to permit of the development of terror. The 
slope at one place became less steep, the speed 
visibly slackened, and we thought we were coming 
to rest; the avalanche, however, crossed the brow 
which terminated this gentler slope, and regained 
its motion. Here H. drew his arm round his friend, 
all hope for the time being extinguished, while I 
grasped my belt and struggled for an instant to 
detach myself. Finding this difficult, I resumed 
the pull upon the rope. My share in the work was, 
I fear, infinitesimal; but Jenni’s powerful strain made 
itself felt at last. Aided probably by a slight change 
of inclination, he brought the whole to rest within a 
short distance of the chasm, over which, had we pre¬ 
served our speed, a few seconds would have carried us. 
None of us suffered serious damage. H. emerged 
from the snow with his forehead bleeding; but the 
wound was superficial. Jenni had a bit of flesh re¬ 
moved from his hand by collision against a stone: 
the pressure of the rope had left black welts on my 
arms; and we all experienced a tingling sensation 
over the hands, like that produced by incipient frost¬ 
bite, which continued for several days. I found a 
portion of my watch-chain hanging round my 
neck, another portion in my pocket, the watch itself 
gone. 

This happened on the 30th of July. Two days 


THE PEAK OF MORTERATSCII 


57 


afterwards I went to Italy, and remained there for 



Aviihiuche oil tlio Pv.iik of Mortcratsch, 


ten or twelve ilays. On tlie IGth of August I was 







58 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


again at Pontresina, and on that day made an ex¬ 
pedition in search of the lost watch. Both the 
guides and myself thought the sun’s heat might melt 
the snow above it; and I inferred that if its back 
should happen to be uppermost, the slight absorbent 
power of gold for the solar rays would prevent the 
watch from sinking as a stone sinks under like cir¬ 
cumstances. The watch would thus be brought quite 
to the surface, and although a small object, it might 
possibly be seen from a distance. I was accompanied 
up the Morteratsch glacier by five friends, of whose 
conduct I cannot speak too highly. One of them in 
particular, a member of the British Legislature, 
sixty-four years of age, exhibited a courage and 
collectedness in places of real difficulty, which was 
perfectly admirable. 

Two only of the party, both competent moun¬ 
taineers, accompanied me to the scene of the ac¬ 
cident, and none of us ventured on the ice where it 
originated. Just before stepping on the remains of 
the avalanche, a stone some tons weight, detached by 
the sun from the snow-slope above us, came rushing 
down the line of our glissade. Its leaps became 
more and more impetuous, and on reaching the 
brow near which we had been brought to rest it 
bounded through the air, and with a single spring 
reached the lower glacier, raising a cloud of ice-dust 
in the air. Some fragments of rope found upon 
the snow assured us that we were upon the exact 
track of the avalanche, and then the search com¬ 
menced. It had not continued for twenty minutes 


THE PEAK OF MORTERATSCH. 59 

when a cheer from one of the guides—Christian 
Michel of Grondelwald—announced the discovery of 
the watch. It had been brought to the surface in 
the manner surmised, and on examination seemed 
to be dry and uninjured. I noticed, moreover, tliat 
the position of the hands indicated that it had only 
run down beneath the snow. I wound it up, hardly 
hoping, however, to find it capable of responding; 
but the little creature showed instant signs of anima¬ 
tion. It had remained eighteen days in tlie ava¬ 
lanche, but the application of the key at once restored 
it to life, and it has gone with unvarying regularity 
ever since. 

John Tyndall. 


Letter to the Times, 1864. 


60 


V. 

THE JUNGFRAU. 

ASCENT IN 1841 BY L. AGASSIZ, E. DESOR, FORRES, 
AND DU CHATELLIER. 

A GIDDY path follows the edge of the precipice; you walk 
between life and death. Two threatening peaks shut in the 
solitary road. Traverse noiselessly this place of terror ; fear 
to awaken the sleeping avalanche. 

The bridge which crosses the frightful abyss, no man 
would have dared to build. Below, without power to shake 
it, growls and foams the torrent. 

A sombre arch seems to conduct towards the empire of 
the dead. But beyond appears the laughing^country in which 
the spring marries the autumn. Ah ! if I could but escape 
the pains and troubles of life by taking refuge in this happy 
valley. 

Four streams of which the sources are all hidden, preci¬ 
pitate themselves into the plain. They flow towards the four 
quarters of the world, the west and the n- rtb, the south and 
the east. And these boisterous waters seem scarcely to have 
left their mother before they have fled far off and disappeared 
in the vast ocean. 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


61 


Above the multitudes of men, the high peaks tower into 
the azure sky. There float the cloudy daughters of heaven 
surrounded by a halo. No terrestrial wituess sees their lonely 
rounds. 

On a bright, imperishable throne, sits the queen of moun¬ 
tains, her forehead encircled with diamonds, a cold crown 
which sparkles beneath the brilliant rays of the sun. 

Schiller. 

Before setting* out, I will just mention an inci¬ 
dent respecting one of our guides, which will serve 
to show the character of tliese mountaineers, and 
will explain at the same time the unlimited confi¬ 
dence that we had in them. Hans Wahreu, the 
friend of Jacob Leuthold, and one of the most in¬ 
telligent of all the guides of the hotel of the Ctrimsel, 
was in our service for more than a month. He 
was, in some sort, Jacob’s lieutenant, and rejoiced 
in tlie idea of conducting us to the Jungfrau, be¬ 
cause he and Jacob were the only persons who were in 
the secret of this expedition. But it happened that 
the evening before the day fixed, in going down 
with us to the hospice, he was taken with a violent 
inflammation in the knee, which the doctor consid¬ 
ered serious. In spite of the pain which he felt, 
however, the poor man could not make up his mind 
to let us start without him. During the two days 
of delay which occurred, his knee was sensibly re¬ 
lieved, so that on the/eve of our departure, he came 
limping to assure us that he would be able to go 
with us, making no doubt tliat he would be cured 
by the next day. ]M. Agassiz, as we think properly, 


62 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


refused his consent, setting before him all the 
dangers to which he would be exposed. The un¬ 
fortunate Wahren had nothing to object to these 
reasons; but the bitterest chagrin was painted on 
his countenance; and seeing that he could not shake 
us, he retired into a corner of the apartment and 
wept, whilst his comrades were making preparations 
for departure. The next day, on entering the ser¬ 
vants’ room, I was much astonished at meeting there 
our man at breakfast, with the other guides. As 
I expressed my surprise, he asked whether it was 
not then permitted to him to take leave of us. I 
thanked him for his attention, and again recom¬ 
mended him to take care of his knee; Agassiz did 
the same, and we set out. We had hardly gone a 
quarter of a league, when all at once we saw him, 
against a rock, in company with the other guides. 
All of us cried out to him at once, asking whether 
he had really lost his head altogether. We tried once 
more to turn him from what we judged a fatal pro¬ 
ject; but in answer he only declared that he had 
well reflected on the danger which he ran, and that 
he would rather die than not be one of the party. 
So we insisted no further, but confined ourselves 
then to recommending prudence, making many re¬ 
flections among ourselves on what must have passed 
in the mind of this man, usually so calm and sub¬ 
missive, before he took such a resolution. 

On the 27th of August, at four o’clock in the 
morning, we started from the Grimsel, itself a 
height of 6000 feet, and directed our steps tohvards 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


63 


the upper glacier of the Aar, which is separated 
from the lower glacier by the mass of the Zinken- 
stock. We were at the little hillock which rises on 
the bank of the river, when the first rays of the sun 
touched the tops of the highest mountains, whilst 
their bases were still bathed in the twilight white¬ 
ness which follows the setting, and precedes the 
rising of the sun. Among all these summits there 
was one quite on the horizon, which was peculiarly 
lighted up ; it appeared all on fire. ‘ What is that 
peak ? ’ I asked of the guides. And they—whether 
they thought so, or whether they only used this 
stratagem in order to increase our ardour, I do 
not know — immediately answered, ‘ That is the 
Jungfrau ! ’ The whole company was, as it were, 
electrified. We felt our courage increase, and from 
that moment I no longer doubted of success. 

In two hours we reached the extreme point of 
the glacier of Oberaar; and we were astonished to 
see that this glacier which in the preceding year, 
had remained stationary, had this year participated 
in the progressive movement peculiar to all these 
glaciers of the Bernese Oberland. It had considerably 
pushed its moraines forward, particularly its terminal 
moraine, and its lateral left one; the latter in its en¬ 
croachments on the side of the valley had com¬ 
pletely raised the turf, which was cut up just as 
if it had been furrowed by a ploughshare. 

The ascent furnished us with an opportunity of 
making many interesting observations on the rela¬ 
tion of smooth and whitened rocks to the surface 


-64 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


of the glacier. From the top, we descended on to 
the plateau of snow which feeds the glacier of Viescli. 
This is a vast circus of more than half a league in 
diameter, bounded on the north by the immense 
mass of the Finsteraarhorn, and crowned by ten 
great peaks, which all bear among the inhabitants 
of Valais the name of Viescherhorner, and of which 
the lowest are between 9000 and 10,000 feet high. 
It was in the midst of this plain that we established 
ourselves to get our dinner,— a dinner which, frugal 
though it was, we found delicious, thanks to the 
appetites which we brought to it. 

Afterwards we descended the fields of ice which 
extend on the south towards the Valais. The snow was 
perfectly homogeneous, without any trace of fallen 
rocks, or of foreign bodies on its surface. The cre¬ 
vasses had almost entirely disappeared, or, if there 
were still any to be seen, it was on the sides of the 
valley. So we were walking in entire security, as 
we thought, when we perceived, at a short distance 
from us, several little openings. Curious to know 
the cause, we directed our steps in that direction ; 
and what was our astonishment when in looking 
down into one of these chinks we saw that it hid an 
immense precipice. And in this precipice there 
was an azure light which surpassed in beauty, trans¬ 
parency, and softness, all that we had yet seen on 
the glaciers. Ah ! if I only possessed the talent of 
describing in language worthy of it all the poetry 
that there was in this combination of snow and of 
light. Never had I seen any spectacle more at- 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


65 


tractive; our eyes were so fascinated by it that 
we did not at first perceive that the crust of snow 
which covered this enchanting cavern was only in 
this place some inches in thickness; however, I do 
not think that we ran a very great risk, for the snow 
was closely packed together, and the sun had not 
yet melted it. After contemplating the entrancing 
effect of this singular phenomenon for some time, 
we wished to know the cause of it, as well as its 
nature. It was an immense crevasse of nearly 
100 feet wide, and, as we calculated, of about 330 
feet deep. In the place in which we examined it, 
there was no other opening than the little chink of 
which I have spoken; but further on, it joined a 
large crevasse which was open on the side of the 
right bank, and there the light entered, while the 
intermediate roof tempering the reflexion of the di¬ 
visions of SDow, gave tliem a sweetness and a charm 
quite indescribable. The divisions of these caves, 
like immense walls of crystal, were composed of 
horizontal iind parallel strata from thr^e or four 
inches to three feet in thickness of snow, very much 
hardened and pressed together, but still crystalline; 
for it had not yet taken that granulated form which 
one meets lower down. Between these strata of 
snow there was usually a little band of ice, but of an 
ice that was bulbous and not very compact, although 
of a deeper colour than the rest of the divisions. 
Our guides were all agreed in affirming that each of 
these layers represents the snow of one year; and this 
explanation appeared to us the most natural. As 

F 


66 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


to tlie tliin bands of ice which separate the layers of 
snow, they are doubtless due to the 'action of the 
sun, which has shone every summer on the layer of 
the preceding winter. 

In pursuing our route we found a number of 
other crevasses similar to the one which I have just 
described; we soon arrived at a certainty that the 
soil on which we were travelling was entirely mined; 
for, in looking into an open crevasse, we often saw 
it prolonged into the interior of the mass, far beyond 
its superficial limits; but others were open to the 
surface the whole wa)'. 

After having travelled for about an hour over 
fields of snow, we passed over the neve, in which we 
met with a prodigious quantity of red snow. As 
the little organisms which compose this red snow are 
usually accumulated in the greatest numbers just 
beneath the surface, we, of course, rendered them 
more apparent by disturbing the ground; so at 
every step we left, as it were, a trace of blood, which 
could be seen at a great distance. 

It was on the right bank of the glacier, at about 
three hours’ march from the village of Viesch, that 
we anticipated the most difficult work. It was ne¬ 
cessary to descend over a barrier of rock almost 
vertical and very steep, at the foot of which fell a 
beautiful cascade. The road was a species of couloir, 
which presented here and there some slight projec¬ 
tions on which we could place our feet. When these 
points of support were insufficient, we endeavoured 
to cling on the best way we could against the sides 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


67 


of the couloir, helping ourselves with a stick, or 
making use of the assistance of one of the guides ; 
but this latter was a method to which our amour- 
propre resigned itself as a last resource. When we 
were out again on the glacier, and could look at the 
descent which we had just made, it seemed impos¬ 
sible to us that this could be the road which the 
shepherds ordinarily take. But Jacob assured us 
that there was no other. We understood still less 
how they transport their flocks there; and Jacob did 
not know this himself; yet he maintained that it is 
this way that they would come up. We informed 
ourselves about it afterwards at Viesch, where they 
told us that this is really the only way to the upper 
pasturage; that they hoist the sheep by means of 
cords, which they attach to their horns, and in 
default of horns, to their necks. As for the shep¬ 
herds, they do not often pass over this road; for, 
when once the sheep are up, they leave them to 
themselves until the autumn; and it is only from 
time to time that a shepherd goes up to give them 
the salt which they require. 

We had many opportunities of proving, along 
the glacier of Viesch, the manner in which it wears 
away and forms its banks. The predominant rock 
is here still the granite, sometimes composed of fine 
grains, sometimes of coarse crystals; which, how¬ 
ever, does not prevent it from being in many parts 
as smooth as polished marble. We remarked in it 
also, in a very distinct manner, those parallel strijB 
which constitute one of the distinctive characteristics 


68 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


of the glaze or polish produced by the action of 
glaciers. 

It was four o’clock in the evening when we made 
tlie last halt, still on the right bank of the glacier of 
Viesch, in a spot from whence we could see, for the 
first time, the bottom of the Valais. We observed 
from hence several ancient moraines, which extend a 
long way on the left bank of the glacier, to a height 
of several inches above its own level. A quantity of 
loose blocks are scattered to higher levels still, and 
indeed loose blocks are found up to the summit of 
the mountain. 

We had still two leagues to go. No one was 
very tired, although we had been on foot for twelve 
hours; but a cry of surprise escaped us when, at the 
turn of the mountain, Jacob showed us the way 
up which we had to go. It was a very steep slope, 
about 1000 feet high, by the edge of which went a 
little path, and apparently by no means a pleasant 
one. The look of despair on some faces, and the ex¬ 
pression of resignation on others, might have fur¬ 
nished subjects for a capital picture, if there had 
been an artist among us who was not too much 
fatigued to draw. However, we arrived at six o’clock 
in the evening at the chalets of Morjelen, where we 
were to pass the night and where the shepherds 
received us very cordially. 

Next day we ascended straight on to the glacier 
of Aletsch. On the right where it bends we en¬ 
joyed a magnificent view in two directions. The 
Dent Blanche, the Matterhorn, Monte Eosa, and the 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


69 


Strahlliorn, formed a picture on the south-west, 
whilst before us, on the north, rose the grand peaks 
of the Jungfrau, the Eiger, and the Moncli, which 
looked so near that they seemed to invite us to 
persevere. 

The glacier of Aletsch is, in general, very smooth; 
it is of all the glaciers the one which has the slightest 
inclination. We walked nearly two hours on the 
compact ice, after which we passed into the region 
of crevasses, which is the division between the ice 
and the nevL This region is almost a league wide. 
The neve^ which succeeds to it, is the finest in 
Switzerland. It begins about the height of the 
Faulberg. It may be known from a distance by a 
certain air of age about it wliich forms a striking 
contrast with the dazzling whiteness of the upper 
snows. It is depressed in the middle and raised at 
the edges, which is, in fact, an essential character¬ 
istic of all neves. Crevasses were very rare this 
year; and we only came across a few very narrow 
ones. On the fields of snow, which began with the 
ascent, we made, at half-past nine, the first halt 
in a place which we called the Eepose, because the 
passage that we had just made, and the immense 
slopes which rise in front of it, naturally invite one 
to take rest there. 

We found on the first plateau of snow some 
crevasses which occur frequently just where the 
slopes begin to be steep. These are, like those of 
the neve of Viesch, crevasses of embankment. We 
saw some here again which were nearly 100 feet 


70 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


wide; but, as they are not very long as well as wide, 
we were generally able to go round them; but 
sometimes they were hidden; and, therefore, our 
guide had to use the utmost circumspection to pre¬ 
serve us from danger; so we got on less quickly 
than we desired; and, in spite of all the precau¬ 
tions, several of us got slips, but without sustaining 
any real injury. 

We thus scaled several terraces, and directing 
our steps always to the west, we arrived at a vast 
opening, commanded on all sides by great peaks, of 
which the highest was the Jungfrau. Jacob made 
us halt here a second time, doubtless that he might 
reconnoitre. As for us, we only saw on all sides 
difficulties insurmountable. On the right, vertical 
slopes; on the left, masses of ice which threatened 
to crush us in their fall; and before us the rimaye, 
or great crevasse, which appeared impassable, it was 
so gaping. I asked Jacob in what direction we were 
going to ascend, but he refused to answer me, con¬ 
tenting himself with saying that we had only to 
follow him in all confidence, and that he already 
saw the road which we must take. Afterwards I 
saw that he was right to elude my question; for it 
is very likely that we should never have arrived, if 
every one had been allowed to give his opinion on 
the difficult passages. 

It was then nearly mid-day ; the heat was ex¬ 
cessive; and, in order to refresh themselves, our 
guides applied handfuls of snow on the nape of the 
neck. Several of us did the same, in spite of the 


I 



THE JUNGFRAU 













































































THE JUNGFRAU. 


71 


remonstrances of the others, who, alarmed at what 
appeared imprudence, forgot that in these elevated 
regions, the material organization, as well as the 
moral nature, is much more independent of per¬ 
nicious influences than in the plain. The reflexion 
of the light from the snow was most intense and 
almost insupportable. In such circumstances one 
can hardly do without a veil; but there is, on the 
other side, the great inconvenience of rendering your 
steps less sure, and of considerably increasing the 
heat of the face, by hindering the fresh air from 
getting at it. So Agassiz preferred to expose him¬ 
self to having his face scorched rather than use one. 

We directed our course straight for the great 
rimaye, which we reached after having climbed up 
a fourth terrace. It is a gulf of an unknown depth, 
which opens on to the slope of the last terrace but 
one, and penetrates a little obliquely into the mass 
of snow: in another place its width is not less than 
10 feet, so that there is no way of getting over it 
but by a ladder. Before passing over, we went to 
examine the ruins of a fallen mass which was lying 
on our left, and which appeared to have been 
detached a little while before; for the impression 
whicli it had left in rolling over the surface of the 
snow was still quite fresh. We saw with interest 
that the ruins of this avalanche detached from a 
peak, of which the height is nearly a thousand feet, 
were composed of alternate layers of compact blue 
ice and of white ice, which had the appearance of 
congealed snow. These different layers were an 


72 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


inch or two in thickness, and alternated three or 
four times in a block of a cubic yard. 

We had now to pass over the great crevasse. 
Our ladder was nearly 25 feet long, and was, conse¬ 
quently, more than sufficiently large. But imme¬ 
diately above the gulf, the slope of the ground was 
frightfully rapid, for a space of more than thirty 
feet. We reckoned the inclination at about 50 de¬ 
grees. And furtlier, the snow which, up to that 
point, had been very soft and almost powdery, as¬ 
sumed all at once an excessive hardness, so that the 
guides were obliged to cut steps. Our courage was 
ready to sink at the first trial; but Jacob and Jaun 
mounted first. When they were arrived at about 
half the distance across, they flung us the rope 
which they held one end, and which, fixed by 
the other to the ladder, served us as a sort of 
banister. We thus all reached the summit of the 
terrace, though not without difficulty. The guides 
themselves, perhaps, exaggerated the dangers of this 
first passage a little; for they lavished their direc¬ 
tions and their support with a liberality which we 
might have found superfluous, if not injurious, some 
hours later. 

It was two o’clock when we arrived at the Col 
du Koththal. This defile resembles very much that 
of the Oberaar; and, like this latter, it is commanded 
by two very high peaks; the Jungfrau on the north, 
and the extremity of the Kranzberg on the south. 
It is several yards wide here. The hanging mists 
collected in the bottom of the Eoththal only allowed 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


73 


US some fugitive glauces into this wild and rugged 
valley which the country people consider to be the 
abode of a band of turbulent spirits, known under the 
name of the Barons of EoththaL 

We calculated the height of the last peak at 
nearly 1000 feet above our level; and we hoped to 
ascend it in less than an hour, in spite of its ex¬ 
cessive steepness. However, we soon saw that the 
ascent was more difficult than we had supposed. 
In place of snow, we only found on all sides com¬ 
pact ice, in which the guides were obliged to cut 
steps lest we should slide down; and we had to 
advance very slowly. So we had ascended for an 
hour without the peak seeming to be sensibly 
nearer, when the thickest fog enveloped us; and we 
could hardly discern from behind those who were 
at the head of the column. 

This was just the steepest point of the ascent. 
Mr. P^'orbes, having measured the inclination, found 
it to be 45°. The ice was so hard and impenetrable 
that for a little while we could not make more than 
fifteen steps in a quarter of an hour. The cold also 
was so intense, that there was reason to fear that we 
should get our feet frozen, in spite of all our care to 
give them as much motion as possible. Seeing then 
that our position began to be really critical, Agassiz 
asked Jacob if he hoped that we should ever arrive 
at the top. The latter replied to him with his 
habitually calm manner, that he had never doubted 
it, and at the cry of ‘ Vornvdrts /’ (Forward) we again 
set ourselves to mount with the same ardour as at 


74 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


the beginning. One, however, of the guides had 
quitted us, not having been able longer to bear 
the sight of the precipices to the right of us; and 
truly the road which we had to follow was enough 
to frighten any one who was not sure of his head 
and his legs. This last ridge, which is in form 
like a vertical section of an inclined cone, com¬ 
mands on the east those fields of snow which 
we had just crossed, and on the west the neve 
of the Eoththal. The inclination is, however, 
rather more on the west than on the east, for 
the fragments of ice broken off by the strokes of 
the hatchet always rolled into the latter vallej^ As 
we had no time to lose, we went up quite straight 
without making any zigzag. It was also the most 
rational and the surest method; for, by the laws of 
mechanics, one has much more strength when one 
bears on the toes and turns the face forwards, than 
when one goes up obliquely; so that if unfortunately 
one of us had slipped it would not have been im¬ 
possible for the others to hold him up, whilst in the 
other case it would have been at least very difficult. 
And further, Jacob made us walk on the edge of the 
ridge, because the ice was generally rather less hard 
there, which accelerated our ascent a little. The 
result was that we had the precipice constantly 
under our eyes, only being separated from it by a 
sloping roof of snow. Several times, in putting my 
stick out a little further than usual, I felt it go 
through this snow, which was in some places only 
about a foot and a half thick ; and we could then. 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


75 


if the fog had happened to clear away for a few 
moments, look through these holes made by the 
stick on to the vast table land beneath our feet. 
Far from dissuading us from this exercise, the guides 
rather encouraged us in it, at least all who were not 
liable to giddiness ; and I believe that truly it was a 
good way of giving us assurance. 

But the fog still hung round the summit, and 
we only had a clear view to the east over the Eiger, 
the Monch, and the peaks which enclose the glaciers 
of the Oberaar and of the Unteraar. Already we had 
begun to despair of enjoying the spectacle which our 
imagination tried to paint, when all at once the 
veil of clouds withdrew, and, as if touched by our 
perseverance, the Jungfrau showed herself to our 
astonished eyes in all the beauty of her mighty 
and majestic form. I leave you to fancy what de¬ 
light we felt at the sight of this unexpected change ! 
It was a sort of picture of life, if I mistake not. 
Audaces fortuna juvaL 

After having ascended still for some time in the 
same direction, we turned suddenly to the left, in 
order to reach a place where the rock was bare, 
crossing thus the inclined surface of the demi-cone, 
of which the breadth is here still about 25 feet. 
During this little crossing the summit remained 
hidden from us; and when we arrived at the rocky 
place we saw, as by magic, at some steps from us, 
tlie culminating point, which, until then, liad seemed 
to flee from us in proportion as we rose higher. Of 
thirteen of us who left the chalets de Morjelen eight 


76 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


of US were about to succeed in our attempt; MM. 
Agassiz, Forbes, Du Cbatelier, and myself,, accom¬ 
panied by four guides, Jacob Leutbold, Michel Baun- 
holzer, Johannes Ablanalp, and Hans Jaun, from 
Meyringen. Switzerland, England, France, and 
Germany, were thus represented in this ascent. 

Here, for the first time, we beheld the Swiss 
plain. We were on the western border of the sec¬ 
tion of the cone, having at our feet the mass which 
separates the valleys of Lauterbrunnen from, those of 
Grindewald. From this moment the scene appeared 
to us entirely changed, and the mass which had 
seemed to shrink as we rose, looked larger now by 
all the height we had gained. Quite close to the 
rocky place the mountain forms a little elbow at 
ten feet below the highest point. This is at the 
same time the limit of the ice, which, higher up, 
gives place anew to the snow, or rather to a coarse¬ 
grained nevL We saw, with a sort of fear, that the 
space which separated us from the highest point 
was a sharp ridge of from, perhaps, two-thirds of a 
foot to rather over a foot in width only, for the 
distance of about twenty feet; whilst the sides, both 
right and left, sloped at an inclination of 60 or 
70 degrees. ‘ There is no way of reaching it,’ said 
Agassiz; and this was the opinion of nearly all. 
Jacob, on the contrary, asserted that there was no 
difficulty, and that we should all go up. Putting 
down the things which he carried, he set forward, 
passing his stick over the ridge, so as to have the 
latter under his right arm, and thus walked along 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


77 


the eastern slope, crushing the snow as much as 
possible under his feet, so as to make our road 
easier. He thus, in an instant, and without diffi¬ 
culty, reached the peak. So much courage and 
sang-froid re-animated our courage, and when he 
returned for us no one ventured to refuse. 

The summit is a very small space, about two 
feet long by a foot and a half wide. It is in the 
form of a triangle, with the base turned towards 
the Swiss plain. As there was not room for more 
than one, each went in turn. Agassiz ascended first, 
supported on the arm of Jacob who preceded him. 
He remained about five minutes, and when he re¬ 
joined us I saw that he was very much agitated; 
and, in fact, he confessed to me that he had never 
felt such emotion. It was my turn next; I ex¬ 
perienced no difficulty in crossing, but when I was 
at the summit I could, no more than Agassiz, re¬ 
press the most lively emotion in presence of such a 
spectacle of surpassing grandeur. I also only re¬ 
mained a few minutes, but long enough to remove 
all fear that the panorama of the' Jungfrau would 
ever be effaced from my memory. 

It is not the vast field which the eyes embrace 
which is the charm of these mountains. Already 
in the preceding year, on the Col de la Strahleck, 
we had had experience which taught us that distant 
\dews are generally rather indistinct. Here, on the 
summit of the Jungfrau, the forms of the far-off 
mountains appeared still less defined. But had they 
been as clear as is the line of the Jura when seen 


78 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


from an eminence in the plain, I believe that our 
eyes would not have rested long on them, so much 
were they fascinated by the spectacle which our im¬ 
mediate neighbourhood offered. Before us was ex¬ 
tended the Swiss plain, and at our feet were stretched 
the anterior chains which, by their apparent uni¬ 
formity, appeared to set off the great peaks which 
rose almost to our level. At the same time, the 
valleys of the Oberland, which at the moment of our 
arrival were enveloped in light mists, discovered 
themselves in several places, and permitted us to 
see, through the breaks in them, the world below. 
We distinguished, on the right, the Valley of Grrindel- 
wald; on the left, in the depth, an immense cre¬ 
vasse, and at the bottom of the latter a light line 
which seemed to follow its windings. This was the 
Valley of Lauterbrunnen, with the Lutschine river 
running through it. But, above all, the Eiger and 
the Monch attracted our attention. We had some 
difficulty in realising that these were the same 
peaks which seem nearer to heaven than to the 
earth when one sees them from the plain. Here we 
contemplated them from above, and their great 
proximity permitted us, in some sort, to observe 
them in detail, for we were only separated from 
them by the extent of the Neve d’Aletsch. Op¬ 
posite, on the western side, rose another peak less 
colossal, but more graceful, the sides of which 
being entirely clothed with snow, it has obtained 
the name of Silberhorn (Silver Peak). However, 
in the same direction we discovered several other 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


79 


peaks in like manner crowned with snow, of which 
the nearest and most pointed appeared to us to be 
the Grletscherhorn. These summits formed the im¬ 
mediate cortege of the Jungfrau, which rises like a 
queen in the midst of them. Beyond the Eiger and 
the Monch, in the eastern direction the great masses 
which surround the glaciers of Finsteraar and of 
Lauteraar, form another group still more extensive 
and severe-looking than that in the midst of which 
we were placed. These were the Viescherhdrner, 
the Oberaarhorn,the Schreckhorner, the Berglistock, 
the Wetterhorner, and, in the centre, the Finsteraar- 
horn, the highest mountain of Switzerland, which, 
alone amongst them all, rose above our level, and 
whose steep and rocky sides seemed to defy our 
ambition. 

On the south the view was contracted by the 
clouds which had accumulated for several hours over 
the chain of Monte Kosa. But this inconvenience 
was more than compensated by a very extraordinary 
phenomenon which was presented to our eyes and 
which interested us exceedingly. Thick fogs ap¬ 
peared, as it were, massed together on our left, in a 
south-westerly direction. They rose from the base 
of the Eoththal, and began to extend to the north, 
over the mass which separates this valley from that 
of Lauterbrunnen. We were already beginning to 
fear that they would a second time come over us, 
when their progress was suddenly stopped, no doubt 
from the effect of some current of the plain, wliich 
prevented tliem from coming further in this direc- 


80 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


tion. Thanks to this circumstance, we found our¬ 
selves, all at once, before a vertical wall of fog, the 
height of which must have been over 12,000 feet at 
least, for it penetrated to the bottom of the Valley 
of Lauterbrunnen and rose much above our heads. 
As the temperature was down to freezing point, the 
little drops of mist were transformed into icy crystals, 
and reflected in the sun all the colours of the rain¬ 
bow ; so that one might have said that a golden 
mist sparkled around us. 

It was more than four o’clock when we again put 
ourselves en route. And now came the difficult 
part; for if the ascent had been perilous ^hat must 
the descent be! I am quite sure of this,—that 
when we measured with our eyes the immense de¬ 
clivity that we had to get down, more than one of 
us would have been very glad to have been already 
at the bottom. It was too steep to think of walk¬ 
ing in the usual way, so we had to descend back¬ 
wards. I confess that the first steps caused me a 
little uneasiness; for, as we had not—that is, Agassiz 
and I—guides before us to direct our steps, we were 
obliged constantly to look between our legs to find 
the cuttings, which made the way appear more 
giddy than it might otherwise have done. But 
some moments sufficed to get used to this ; and such 
was the regularity of the cuttings, that, after having 
taken some hundreds of steps, we could, if necessary, 
have trusted to our feet, and have dispensed with 
looking at them at all. Yet the steepness of 
the descent was almost always the same, oscil- 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


81 


lating between 40 and 45 degrees, that is to say. 
much the same as that of tlie roofs of our Gothic 
cathedrals. There was, indeed, one place in which 
it must have been about 47 degrees. But in 
spite of this excessive steepness, we did not take 
more than an hour in reaching the Col de Koththal, 
for it was about five when we arrived there. 

There remained still six leagues to make before 
we could regain our chalets; so that, as we had 
foreseen, we should have to cross that part of the 
glacier which was most full of crevasses by night. 
However, no one seemed at all uneasy about it, and 
the moon was not late in rising, while the clouds 
had almost entirely disappeared from the horizon. 
We marched at a quickened pace for three hours 
over the nh^e which succeeded the plateau of snow; 
and that part was accomplished without difficulty, 
for the neve here has a smooth surface, so that it 
is as easy to walk on it as on a highroad. And it 
was scarcely dark when we saw the moon right in 
front of us. 

We were then at the height of the two passes 
which I have mentioned, that of Lotsch on the 
west, and that which conducts into the nhe of 
Viesch on the east. The moon was just in the 
axis of the glacier, so that all this great sea of ice 
was uniformly illuminated, and reflected a light 
much softer than that of the sun, from which we 
had suffered so much during the day. The en¬ 
trances of the two passes of Lotsch and Viesch pre¬ 
sented a truly magical effect; for, as they are at 

G 


82 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


right angles with the direction of the glacier, the 
mountains which bound them on the south project 
into them shadows of a fantastic grandeur, whilst 
the heavy clouds collected behind the Aletschhorn, 
gave to the picture all the vigour worthy of such a 
subject. Add to this, that there was a perfect calm 
in the atmosphere, and that an absolute silence 
reigned around us, and it will be understood that we 
still felt extreme pleasure in gazing on this wonder¬ 
ful spectacle, notwithstanding that all day we had 
been looking on prospects of marvellous splendour. 

Very soon we entered the region of crevasses. 
Then we judged it prudent to have recourse to the 
cord again ; for although the light of the moon was 
very lovely, it was not sufficiently strong to enable 
us always to discern precisely when we were on old 
snow and when on that which had recently fallen, 
especially during the first quarter of an hour. In 
fact, we all made summersaults by turns, the guides 
as well as ourselves. There was, indeed, one mo¬ 
ment in which we began to feel really uneasy as to 
the issue of this crossing; for at almost every step 
one or another had to be drawn out of a crevasse. 
However, by degrees, we learnt to avoid them, and 
we completed this part of the journey without any 
serious accident. 

After having made a good supper we once more 
put ourselves en route for the last stage. There re¬ 
mained before us about three leagues, but excepting 
these crevasses which we had still to leap, the way 
was easy, and we arrived before we suspected that 


THE JUNGFRAU. 


83 


we were so near, at the Lake of Morjelen. Here we 
made a last halt in order that we might thoroughly 
admire a magnificent spectacle. Tlie blocks of 
floating ice which swam on the surface of the water 
glistened beautifully in the moonlight; while at the 
same time the edge of the glacier appeared like an 
immense wall of crystal, and then what added to 
the beauty of the scene was, that arriving just at 
the time when the moon was about to pass behind 
the mountain mass which headed the lake we saw 
in a quarter of an hour effects of light and contrasts 
the most various. It was a worthy ending to such 
a day. 


E. Desor. 


VJ. 

THE HALENSTOCK. 

ASCENT IN 1845 BY MM. E. DESOR, DOLLFUS- 
AUSSET, AND DANIEL DOLLFUS. 

All who have visited the Oberland and are pos¬ 
sessed of the least observation, even among ordinary 
tourists, must have remarked, in the midst of the 
numerous bold and steep peaks, a mountain dis¬ 
tinguished from the others by its rounded form, 
which represents a magnificent cupola of snow. 
This is the Galenstock (^15,853 feet high), which 
stands right over the splendid glacier of the Ehone, 
at the culminating point of the chain which 
separates the Valais from the canton of Uri. I 
had several times conceived the project of going to 
study it on the spot, and had conversed with the 
most experienced guides on the subject; but they, 
without combating the idea, had, nevertheless, never 
seemed disposed to encourage it, not that they 
thought the mountain too high or too steep, but 
on account of its peculiar form. 


THE GALENSTOCK. 


8.5 


‘Yon must take notice,’ said Jacob Leiithold to 
me, ‘ tliat this is a mountain by itself. It has an 
inclined slope of ice uninterrupted for more than 
3000 feet, which we could only scale by cutting 
steps the whole way. In a case of necessity this 
might be done; but on a hot day we should run 
the risk of finding these steps melted on our return. 
And you know that to cut others in descending and 
backwards would be no easy matter. Still there is 
one way of doing the thing,’ he added, after an 
instant’s reflection, ‘ we might try it some day after 
a heavy snow, in August or September.’ 

The- brave Leuthold was not, however, to have 
tlie satisfaction. He died the same year ; and for 
a long while no one spoke of the Gralenstock. 

It was in 1845 that an opportunity presented 
itself of reviving the project of ascent which seemed 
to have been forgotten. One day, when we had 
been interrupted in the course of our observations 
by one of those violent tempests which sometimes 
break suddenly over the higher valleys,"^ we were 

* Mr. Tackett writes to the “ Alpine Journal ” in 1865 : 
“ I left Geschenen at 3.30 a.m. on the 16th of July, with 
Christian and Peter Michel of Grindelwald, and, after a 
charming walk through lovely scenery and amidst magnificent 
specimens of glacier action, found injself, at 6.20, at the little 
collection of houses called the Geschenen Alp (near the 
Galenstock). Here the cur6 was taking his morning walk, 
and I took the opportunity of a halt for breakfast to have a 
li’tle chat with him. He stated that the Alp was inhabited 
all the year round : that last winter had been a remarkably 


86 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


obliged to beat a retreat, and it was not without 
difficulty that we reached the Grrimsel. Hardly had 
we arrived at the hospice when the weather suddenly 
cleared up. To the tempestuous day succeeded a 
superb and perfectly calm evening. But the snow 
had fallen in too great a quantity to permit us 
immediately to resume our studies, and we met on 
the steps of the old hospice, and were deploring 
together that we were prevented from taking ad¬ 
vantage of such fine weather, when our principal 
guide, he who had taken Jacob Leuthold’s place, 
drew me aside. 

‘ You remember what Jacob said to you two 
years ago ? Poor Jacob, if he could have been here 
now! ’ 

‘What would happen then ?’ I asked him. 

‘ Why, we would go to-morrow-’ 

‘Where?’ 

‘ To the Gralenstock. Now is the time or never,’ 
he added; ‘for there must be at least some feet of 
snow up there ; if we set out early before the thaw 
begins we should mount without any difficulty : and 
as to the descent, why we would make a grand 
sledge party of it. What do you think of it ?’ 

I went at once to consult with MM. Dollfus, 
father and son, and, after some consideration, it 
was decided that we should make the attempt. The 

mild one, as the snow had only lain twenty-five feet deep, 
instead of covering the chapel altogether, and rising above 
the eaves of his house, as usual.” 



THE GALENSTOCK. 


87 


instruments which we expected to want were packed 
up at once, the provisions prepared, and M. Dollfiis 
brought out a roll of stuff, of which he had always 
a stock, that he might cut out a flag which was to 
float from the top of the Galenstock. 

Next day, the 18th of August, at three o’clock 
in the morning, we set out on the road towards the 
Col du Grimsel. The company was composed of 
eight persons, IM. Dollfus-Ausset, his son Daniel, and 
myself, accompanied by five guides. At four o’clock 
we had reached the elevation of the Col, the summit 
of which is occupied by the Lac des ]\Iorts. The 
sky was without a cloud, and the chain of Monte 
Eosa appeared like an immense fire of red-hot coals 
in the brilliant morning tints, whilst the lower chains 
allowed us to see over their valleys that transparent 
halo which our celebrated landscape-painter, Calame, 
has so happily depicted in the splendid painting 
of Monte Eosa, which is so much admired in the 
museum of Neufchatel. 

From the first plateau we descended by an easy 
slope, though a somewhat steep one, on to the 
upper part of the glacier of the Ehone, which we 
crossed without any difficulty, taking care, however, 
to attach ourselves to one another, on account of 
the crevasses hidden by the fresh snow. The gla¬ 
cier once crossed, we soon reached the mass of the 
Galenstock itself, directing our steps zigzag to¬ 
wards the lower part of the ridge. The snow was 
frozen, and only yielded an inch or two under our 
feet. Without causing any fatigue, it just gave 


88 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


way enougli to afford secure footing. It was not 
ten o’clock when we reached the depression in ques¬ 
tion, which we have designated by the name of the 
Col de Gralen. The view which one has from this 
point is imposing; it embraces, on one side, the 
great chain of the Finsteraarhorn and its deep 
valleys, on the other, the upper part of the valley 
of Eealp, which is passed through in going from 
Andermatt to La Furka. 

We took our way at eleven o’clock towards the 
culminating point, ascending a very gentle slope 
along the ridge, but keeping a certain distance from 
the edge; for we had observed that, in the line of 
the principal declivity, the snow overhung the edge 
of the wall of rocks in several places. Never has 
any ascent of a high mountain been effected more 
easily and merrily than this. We might have been 
taken for a troop of school-boys going up the Naye 
or the Chasseral rather than for a party of naturalists 
making the conquest of a virgin peak of the Alps. 
On reaching the top I gave way to M. Dollfus, 
junior, that he might have the satisfaction of plant¬ 
ing the standard and taking possession, in some sort, 
in the name of Science, of a point on which the foot 
of man had not yet trodden. 

In a picturesque point of view we had occasion to 
verify, once more, the truth of a remark which we had 
often made; for we were more than ever convinced that 
the charm of the views, from great elevations, consists 
much more in the details of the nearer points of 
interest than in the extent of the panorama which lies 


THE GALENSTOCK. 


89 


beneath the eye. That which fascinates is the sublime 
chaos of sharp ridges and pointed peaks in the midst of 
the vast fields of snow, of broken arches and detached 
pieces, out of which the most experienced eye seeks 
in vain to reconstruct the original chain. Then 
there are the contrasts of light and shade which set 
these objects off in high relief. Here was, first, that 
deep crevasse of the Valley of the Aar, and that 
other, not less sombre, in which the Ehone plays 
his first frolics on leaving the glacier; then, on the 
plateau between the two valleys, were those two 
rounded rocks, stretching out their polished sur¬ 
faces, the witnesses of the ancient abodes of glaciers. 
There were, lastly, a little further on, the giants of 
the Alps, with their steep sides and toothed and 
rugged summits, seeming like old acquaintances, 
who recalled to us the happiest moments of our 
Alpine life,— amongst others, the Schreckhorn, 
on the top of which we still perceived the staff of 
the standard which I had planted there in 1842, 
with my friend, Escher de la Linth; and a little 
further on, to the right, the three twin peaks of the 
Wetterhorn, which we had visited together in the 
preceding year, and of which one, the Rosenhorn, 
also retained tokens of our visit. We found our¬ 
selves, further, surrounded with the same guides 
who had accompanied us up these different moun¬ 
tains, and who enjoyed not less than ourselves this 
grand spectacle. Tliey found, above all, a great 
charm in recalling to each other, and to us all the 
incidents of our different ascents, from the Jung- 


90 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


frail to the Gralenstock, and in reviewing the diffi¬ 
culties encountered, and the dangers which we had 
run on each of these summits. 

It was nearly one o’clock when we set off again. 
The snow was considerably softened on the declivi¬ 
ties exposed to the sun, so much so that we sank 
knee-deep into it. On one side the slope was not 
sufficient in the direction which we had to go to permit 
us to slide. ‘We wanted,’ as the guides said, 
‘horses to the sledge;’ an expression which they 
use when they take their masters by the legs and 
run down the side of a mountain with them. 

We were now approaching the place where we 
had reason to believe that the snow sloped over the 
rocks. So we took care, for greater safety, to follow 
exactly our morning’s track. We marched in a file, 
the guide Jaun being at the head of the column. 
I followed him at some paces back : then came M. 
Dollfus, junior; after him three other guides, and 
at some distance behind, M. Dollfus, senior, ac¬ 
companied by the fifth guide. Merry and light¬ 
hearted we chatted about our good fortune, and 
about the surprise which the sight of our standard 
would cause to the tourists and guides of the Ober- 
land, as it floated on the summit of the inaccessible 
peak of the Gralenstock, when, all at once, I saw a 
fissure in the ground open before me and split with 
the rapidity of lightning. I shall have ever before 
my mind’s eye the spectacle of this gulf with its 
azure walls, though they only remained so for the 
twinkling of an eye, the time it takes for the side of 


THE GALENSTOCK. 


91 


a mountain to sink. The cleft, which had grazed 
my left foot in splitting, had passed between the legs 
of the guide who preceded me. Whether by in¬ 
stinct or by accident he had thrown himself on to the 
side of the mountain. Not a cry, not a sound es¬ 
caped from my mouth during this scene. But 
when I turned to inquire of my companions I saw 
all faces horror-struck. They were not there in full 
number. At two steps behind me a stick was hang¬ 
ing over the abyss, but he who carried it had dis¬ 
appeared, borne away with tlie part of the moun¬ 
tain which had just broken off. M. Dollfus, who 
was at a little distance, did not immediately under¬ 
stand the cause of the agitation. He was going to 
exhort us to be prudent, when he discovered that 
the party was no longer complete. And certainly, 
in presence of such a discovery, the emotion of a 
father needs neither excuse nor explanation. The 
one who was missing was his son ! 

Before we had time to collect ourselves, we were 
enveloped in a thick cloud of snow: this was, as it 
were, the dust of the fallen mass, which came over 
us like a whirlwind. It would be difficult to say 
what happened to us while in these circumstances. 
We expected every instant while this was going on 
to see another portion of the side of the mountain 
give way and draw us, in our turn, into the gulf, 
and a tliousand plans and recollections rushed at 
once into my mind. What must then have passed 
through the soul of him whom we regarded as 
already a victim I 


92 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


Little by little, however, I cannot possibly say in 
what space of time, the thick clouds of snow began 
to grow lighter, so that they permitted us to discern 
some forms. Hope also began to rekindle in us 
when we saw that no new crevasses were opening. 
I then immediately went to the edge of the preci¬ 
pice and stretched myself at full length on the 
snow, having first fastened round my waist a girdle 
with which M. Dollfus was always furnished, in 
order that the guides might, if necessary, draw me 
up again, if, from the weight of my body, another 
piece should detach itself from the side. I cannot 
describe the anxiety with which M. Dollfus, the 
father, followed me with his eyes, or how many 
times he asked whether I did not see some trace of 
his son. At first I saw nothing except an enor¬ 
mous mass of moving snow at a depth of more than 
3000 feet below me. This was the mass which had 
fallen which was precipitating itself like an ava¬ 
lanche into the Valley of Gorschen, above Eealp. 
After some instants, however, I thought that through 
the mist, and almost perpendicularly beneath me, 
just in the track of the avalanche, I could perceive 
a dark object. Was it he? I did not yet dare to 
believe it; above all, I did not dare to answer affirm¬ 
atively to all the questions asked by the guides. 
Soon, however, I had no doubt. It was my friend’s 
hat and part of his shoulder which I saw. Another 
question, not less urgent, was to know whether he 
were living or dead. It was M. Dollfus who asked 
this time. It would have been very sweet to me. 


THE GALENSTOCK. 


93 


as may be imagined, to perceive, at this moment, a 
sign of life in him on whom I kept my eyes fixed, 
and to be able to reply at once to the despairing 
father, ‘ Your son lives!’ But how could I nourish 
such a hope ? It appeared to me that without a 
miracle he must have been crushed or smotliered by 
the snow; yet still it was a sort of miracle that 
instead of being drawn down by the avalanche, he 
had remained there, so near the surface, at about 
eiglity feet below us. A few moments afterwards 
I thought that I really could perceive a movement. 
He was not then dead ! The impression which this 
discovery produced may be imagined. But what 
will not be understood, what will scarcely be be¬ 
lieved, is the devotion of which one of the guides at 
this moment gave proof. Hardly had I articulated 
those words, ‘ He lives ! ’ than Hans Wahren, the 
chosen guide of M. Dollfus, precipitated himself 
over the edge of the crevasse. We all uttered a cry 
of terror when we saw him disappear. Happily he 
fell into the snow of the avalanche only thirty feet 
from the top, and as this snow was very soft, he 
sank so deeply that it was impossible for him to 
disengage himself. 

In tlie meanwhile, young M. Dollfus had begun 
to recover from the stun which the fall liad caused. 
He made an effort to look up, and when he per¬ 
ceived me at the top of the precipice, his first thought 
as may be conceived, was for his father. The news 
that his father was safe and , sound, and that he had 
not been drawn down like himself, restored his 


94 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


courage. He tried to rise, when he perceived that 
he had not the use of his right arm. Was it broken 
or put out of joint? He could not tell yet. ^ But 
broken or dislocated it is nothing,’ he cried to us, 
‘ since there is no one hurt but me.’ 

How then did it happen that he had stopped in 
his fall at such a comparatively small distance ? 
The fact was that in this long and abrupt slope of 
the Grailenstock there was one isolated point of 
rock, a sort of little rocky pyramid, and against 
this that part of the fallen mass struck on which M. 
Dollfus was. A portion of the snow remained 
there, and in it he whom it had drawn with it in its 
fall. If he had been in any other part of this great 
mass he must infallibly have been drawn down with 
the avalanche, and would not have been long in 
disappearing amidst its gigantic heaps. 

We had now to consider what means we should 
take to rescue M. Dollfus from this position. And 
we did not exactly see what to do. We knew, how¬ 
ever, one thing, which was, that we were not going 
to return without him. But our guides, generally 
so calm in the presence of danger, were completely 
at a loss now. There was no way of effecting our 
descent down tlie declivity which the avalanche had 
taken. It was therefore indispensable to draw M. 
Dollfus up again. But between him and us there 
was first a vertical wall of over thirty feet, the edge 
of the crumbled ntve, then a very steep slope re¬ 
presenting a height of some fifty feet. 

In order to proceed with as much method as 


THE GALENSTOCK. 


95 


possible, we fastened a cord round one of the guides 
and let him down thirty feet to the place where his 
comrade Wahren was stuck fast; and first he as¬ 
sisted him to get free, after which they endeavoured 
to descend by one of those tricks of which only the 
chamois-hunters have the secret, and which consists 
in finding the exact spots in which the snow is suffi¬ 
ciently firm to bear a man’s weight. 

They managed this by dint of address and 
patience, and by literally clinging to the snow, to 
reach M. Dollfus, whom they had in the first place 
almost to disinter. But when they had got him 
out, they discovered with dismay that he had not 
only an injured arm, but that his leg also was so much 
hurt that it could do him no service. And how 
then could a man in such a state be raised up an 
acclivity of 60 and sometimes 70 degrees. Had it been 
a descent the thing would have been impossible; 
but there are always more resources for an ascent. 
So our two brave men manoeuvred so well that 
they got M. Dollfus to the top of the slope. They 
then fastened the cord round him, and we drew him 
up to us, taking care to pull the cord over our 
sticks which we had placed over the edge of the 
precipice. We emj loyed the same means to raise 
the two guides, who arrived safe and sound at the 
top. 

Several long hours had passed in this search, 
and these efforts to recover him whom we had 
thou<rht lost. Wien we were all once more to- 

O 


96 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


gether again on the top of the precipice, the sun 
was already visibly sinking over the Finsteraarhorn. 
M. Dollfus was unable to walk, so one of the guides 
took him on his back and carried him to the Col de 
Gralen. It was there that we meant to take some 
refreshment, because then only could we believe 
ourselves entirely out of danger. 


E. Desor. 


r »- 





I III' M A'l'IKkllokN. 
























VII. 


THE MATTEKHORN. 

ASCENT BY MR. E. WHYMPER, LORD DOUGLAS, 

REV. C. HUDSON, AND MR. HADOW, IN JULY I860. 

On Wednesday morning, the 12th of July, Lord 
PVancis Douglas and myself crossed the Col Theo- 
dule, to seek guides at Zermatt. After quitting 
the snow on the northern side we rounded the foot 
of the glacier, crossing the Furgge Glacier, and left 
my tent, ropes, and other matters in the little chapel 
at the Lac Noir. We then descended to Zermatt, 
engaged Peter Taugwalder, and gave him permis¬ 
sion to choose another guide. In the course of the 
evening the Rev. Charles Hudson came into our 
hotel with a friend, Mr. Hadow; and they, in answer 
to some inquiries, announced their intention of start¬ 
ing to attempt the Matterhorn on the following 
morning. Lord Francis Douglas agreed with me 
that it was undesirable that two independent parties 
should be on the mountain at the same time, and 
with the same object. Mr. Hudson was therefore 

H 


98 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


invited to join us, and he accepted our proposal. 
Before admitting Mr. Hadow I took the precaution 
to inquire what he had done in the Alps; and, as 
well as I can remember, Mr. Hudson’s reply was, 

‘ Mr. Hadow has done the Mont Blanc in less time 
than most men.’ He then mentioned several other 
excursions that were then unknown to me, and 
added, in answer to a further question, ^ I consider 
he is a sufficiently good man to go with us.’ This 
was an excellent certificate, given as it was by 
a first-rate mountaineer, and Mr. Hadow was ad¬ 
mitted without any further question. 

We then went into the matter of guides. 
Michel Croz was with Messrs. Hadow and Hudson; 
and the latter thought if Peter Taugwalder, went 
as well that there would not be occasion for any one 
else. The question was then referred to the men 
themselves, and they made no objection. 

We left Zermatt at 5.35 on Thursday morning, 
taking the two young Taugwalders as porters by de¬ 
sire of their father. They carried provisions amply 
sufficient for the whole party for three days, in case 
the ascent should prove more difficult than we anti¬ 
cipated. No rope was taken from Zermatt, because 
there was already more than enough in the chapel at 
the Lac Noir. It has been repeatedly asked, ‘ Why 
was not the wire rope taken which Mr. Hudson 
brought to Zermatt ? ’ I do not know ; it was not 
mentioned by Mr. Hudson, and at that time I had not 
even seen it. My rope alone was used during the 
expedition, and there was, first, about 200 feet of 


THE MATTERHORN. 


99 


Alpine Club rope; second, about 150 feet of a kind 
I believe to be stronger than the first; third, more 
than 200 feet of a lighter and weaker rope than the 
first, of a kind used by myself until the club rope 
was produced. 

It was our intention on leaving Zermatt to at¬ 
tack the mountain seriously,—not, as it has been 
frequently stated, to explore or examine it,—and 
we were provided with everything that long experi¬ 
ence has shown to be necessary for the most difficult 
mountains. On the first day, however, we did not 
intend to ascend to any great height, but to stop 
when we found a good position for placing the tent. 
We mounted accordingly very leisurely, left the Lac 
Noir at 8.20, and passed along the ridge connecting 
the Hdrnli with the actual peak, at the foot of 
which we arrived at 11.30, having frequently halted 
on the way. We then quitted the ridge, went to 
the left, and ascended by the north-eastern face of 
the mountain. Before twelve o’clock we had found a 
good position for the tent, at a height of 11,000 feet; 
but Croz and the elder of Taugwalder’s sons went 
on to look what was above, in order to save time on 
the following morniog. The remainder constructed 
the platform on which the tent was to be placed, 
and by the time this was finished the two men re¬ 
turned, reported joyfully that as far as they had 
gone they had seen nothing but that which was 
good, and asserted positively, that had we gone on 
with them that day we could have ascended the 
mountain, and have returned to the tent with fa- 



100 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


cility. We passed the remaining hours of daylight 
— some basking in the sunshine, some sketching or 
collecting, and when the sun went down (giving, as 
it departed, a glorious promise for the morrow) we 
returned to the tent to arrange for the night. 
Hudson made tea, myself coffee, and we then re¬ 
tired each one to his blanket bag; the Taugwalders, 
Lord Francis Douglas, and myself, occupying the 
tent, the others remaining, by preference, outside. 
But long after dusk the cliffs above echoed with our 
laughter, and with the songs of the guides; for we 
were happy that night in camp, and did not dream 
of calamity. 

We were astir long before daybreak, on the 
morning of the 14th, and started as soon as it was 
possible to move, leaving the youngest of Taug- 
walder’s sons behind. At 6.20 we had attained a 
height of 12,800 feet, and halted for half-an-hour, 
then continued the ascent without a break until 9.55, 
when we stopped for fifty minutes, at a height pro¬ 
bably of about 14,000 feet. Thus far we had as¬ 
cended by the north-eastern face of the mountain, 
and had not met with a single difficulty. For the 
greater part of the way there was, indeed, no occa¬ 
sion for the rope; and sometimes Hudson led, some¬ 
times myself. We had now arrived at the foot of 
that path which from Zermatt seems perpendicular 
and overhanging, and we could no longer continue 
on the same side. By common consent, therefore, 
we ascended for some distance by the arete ,—that 
is, by the ridge descending towards Zermatt,—and 


THE MATTERHORN. 


101 


then turned over to the right, or to the north¬ 
western face. Before doing so, we made a change 
in the order of descent; Croz now went first, I fol¬ 
lowed, Hudson came third, Hadow and old Taug- 
walder were last. The change was made because 
the work became difficult for a time and required 
caution. In some places there was but little to 
hold, and it was therefore desirable that those should 
be in front who were least likely to slip. The 
general slope of the mountain at this part was less 
than forty degrees, and snow had consequently accu¬ 
mulated, and filled up the irregularities of the rock 
face, leaving only occasional fragments projecting 
here and there. These were at times coated with a 
thin glaze of ice, from the snow above having melted 
and frozen again during the night, still it was a 
place over which any fair mountaineer might pass 
in safety. We found, however, that Mr. Hadow 
was not accustomed to this kind of work, and re¬ 
quired continual assistance; but no one suggested 
that he should stop, and he was taken to the top. 
It is onl}’- fair to say that the difficulty experienced 
by Mr. Hadow at this part arose, not from fatigue 
or lack of courage, but simply and entirely from 
want of experience. Mr. Hudson, who followed me, 
passed over this part, and, as far as I know, as¬ 
cended the entire mountain without having the 
slightest assistance rendered to him on any occasion. 
Sometimes, after I had taken a hand from Croz or 
received a pull, I turned to give the same to Hud¬ 
son ; but he invariably declined, saying it was not 


102 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


necessary. This solitary difficult part was of no 
great extent, certainly not more than 300 feet high ; 
and after it was passed the angles became less and 
less as we approached the summit; and at length 
the slope was so moderate that Croz and myself de¬ 
tached ourselves from the others, and ran on to the 
top. We arrived at 1.40 p.m., the others about ten 
minutes after us. 

I have been requested to describe particularly 
the state of the party on the summit. No one 
showed any signs of fatigue, neither did I hear any¬ 
thing to lead me to suppose that any one was at all 
tired. I remember Croz laughing at me when I 
asked him the question. Indeed, less than ten 
hours had elapsed since our starting, and during 
that time we had halted for nearly two : the only 
remark which I heard suggestive of danger was made 
by Croz ; but it was quite casual, and probably meant 
nothing. 

He said, after I had remarked that we had come 
up very slowly, ‘ Yes ; I would rather go down with 
you and another guide alone than with those who 
are going.’ 

As to ourselves we were arranging what we 
should do that night on our return to Zermatt. 

We remained on the summit for one hour, and 
during the time Hudson and I consulted, as we had 
done all the day, as to the best and safest arrange¬ 
ment of the party. We agreed that it would be 
best for Croz to go first, as he was the most power¬ 
ful, and Hadov7 second; Hudson, who was equal to 


THE MATTERHORN. 


103 


a guide in sureness of foot wished to be third; Lord 
F*. Douglas was placed next, and old Taugwalder, 
the strongest of the remainder, behind him. I sug¬ 
gested to Hudson that we should attach a rope to 
the rocks on arrival at the difficult bit, and hold it 
as we descended, as an additional protection. He 
approved the idea, but it was not definitely settled 
that it should be done. The party was being ar¬ 
ranged in the above order while I was making a 
sketch of the summit, and they were waiting for me 
to be tied in my place, when some one remembered 
that we had not left our names in a bottle; and 
they requested me to write them, and moved off 
while it was being done. A few minutes afterwards 
I tied myself to young Taugwalder and followed, 
catching them just as they were commencing the de¬ 
scent of the difficult part described above. The 
greatest care was being taken. Only one man 
moving at a time, when he was firmly planted, the 
next advanced, and so on. The average distance 
between each was probably twenty feet. They had 
not, however, attached the additional rope to the 
rocks, and nothing was said about it. The sugges¬ 
tion was made entirely on account of Mr. Hadow, 
and I am not sure even if it ever occurred to me 
again. 

I was, as I have explained, detached from the 
others, and following them ; but after about a quar¬ 
ter of an hour Lord F. Douglas asked me to tie on 
to old Taugwalder, as he feared, he said, that if 
there were slips Taugwalder would not be able to 


104 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


hold him. This was done hardly ten minutes before 
the accident, and undoubtedly saved Taugwalder’s 
life. 

As far as I know, at the moment of the acci¬ 
dent, no one was actually moving. I cannot speak 
with certainty, neither can the Taugwalders, be¬ 
cause the two leading men were partially hidden 
from our sight by an intervening mass of rock. 
Poor Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to 
give Mr. Hadow greater security was absolutely 
taking hold of his legs and putting his feet, one by 
one, into their proper positions. From the move¬ 
ments of their shoulders, it is my belief that Croz, 
having done as I have said, was in the act of turn¬ 
ing round to go down a step or two himself; at this 
moment Mr. Hadow slipped, fell on him, and 
knocked him over. I heard one startled exclama¬ 
tion from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying 
downwards ; in another moment Hudson was dragged 
from his steps, and Lord F. Douglas immediately 
after him. All this was the work of a moment; 
but immediately we heard Croz’s exclamation Taug- 
walder and myself planted ourselves as firmly as the 
rocks would permit; the rope was tight between us, 
and the shock came on us both, as on one man. 
We held, but the rope broke midway between Taug- 
walder and Lord F. Douglas. For two or three 
seconds we saw our unfortunate companions sliding 
downwards on their backs, and spreading out their 
hands endeavouring to save themselves; they then 
disappeared one by one, and fell from precipice to pre- 


THE MATTERHORN. 


105 



cipice on to the Matterhorn glacier below, a distance 
of nearly 4000 feet in height. From the moment 
the rope broke it was impossible to help them. 

For the space of half-an-hour we remained on 
the spot without moving a single step. The two 


men, paralysed by terror, cried like infants, and 
trembled in such a manner as to threaten us with 
the fate of the others. Immediately we had de¬ 
scended to a safe place I called for the rope that had 
broken, and to my surprise—indeed, to my horror 
— found that it was the weakest of the three ropes. 



106 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


As the first five men had been tied while I was 
sketching, I had not noticed the rope they employed, 
and now I could only conclude that they had seen 
fit to use' this in preference to the others. It has 
been stated that the rope broke in consequence of 
its fraying over a rock: this is not the case; it 
broke in mid air, and the end does not show any 
trace of previous injury. 

For more than two hours afterwards I thought 
every moment that the next would be my last; for 
the Taugwalders, utterly unnerved, were not only in¬ 
capable of giving assistance, but were in such a 
state that a slip might have been expected from one 
or the other at any moment. I do the younger 
man, moreover, no injustice when I say that imme¬ 
diately we got to the easy part of the descent he 
was able to laugh, smoke, and eat, as if nothing had 
happened. There is no occasion to say more of the 
descent. I looked frequently, but in vain, for 
traces of my unfortunate companions; and we were, 
in consequence, surprised by the night when still at 
a height of about 13,000 feet. We arrived at Zer¬ 
matt at 10.30, on Saturday morning. 

Immediately on my arrival I sent to the Presi¬ 
dent of the Commune, and requested him to send 
as many men as possible to ascend heights whence 
the spot could be commanded where I knew the 
four must have fallen. A number went and re¬ 
turned after six hours, reporting that they had seen 
them, but that they could not reach them that 
day. They proposed starting on Sunday evening 


THE MATTERHORN. 


107 


SO as to reach the bodies at daybreak on Monday; 
but unwilling to lose the slightest chance, the Rev. 
J. M‘Cormick and myself resolved to start on Sun¬ 
day morning. The guides of Zermatt, being threat¬ 
ened with excommunication if they did not attend 
the early mass, were unable to accompany us. To 
several, at least, I am sure this was a severe trial; 
for they assured me with tears that nothing but 
what I have stated would have prevented them from 
going. The Rev. J. Robertson and Mr. J. Phill- 
potts, of Rugby, however, not only lent us their 
guide, Franz Andermatter, but also accompanied us 
themselves. Mr. Puller lent us the brothers Loch- 
matter ; F. Payot and J. Tairraz, of Chamounix, 
also volunteered. 

We started with these at 2 a.m. on Sunday, and 
followed the route we had taken on Thursday morn¬ 
ing until we had passed the Hornli, when we went 
down to the right of the ridge and mounted through 
the seracs of the Matterhorn glacier. By 8.30 we 
liad got on to the plateau at the top, and within 
sight of the corner in which we knew my com¬ 
panions must be. As we saw one weather-beaten 
man after another raise the telescope, turn deadly 
pale, and pass it on without a word to the next we 
knew that all hope was gone. We approached; 
they had fallen below as they had fallen above,— 
Croz a little in advance, Hadow near hfm, and Hud¬ 
son some distance behind ; but of Lord F. Douglas 
we could see nothing. To my astonishment, I saw 
that all of the three had been tied with the Club, 


108 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


or with the second, and equally strong, rope, and 
consequently there was only one link, that between 
Taugwalder and Lord F. Douglas, in which the 
weaker rope had been used. 

The letters of the Eev. J. McCormick have 
already informed you respecting the subsequent pro¬ 
ceedings. The orders from the government of the 
Valais to bring the bodies down were so positive, 
that four days after the sad events I have just re¬ 
lated twenty-one guides accomplished that sad task. 
The thanks of all Englishmen were due to these 
brave men, for it was a work of no little difficulty 
and of great danger. Of the body of Lord F. Doug¬ 
las they, too, saw nothing; it is probably arrested 
in the rocks above. No one can mourn his loss 
more deeply or more sincerely than myself. Although 
young, he was a most accomplished mountaineer, 
hardly ever required assistance, and did not make a 
single slip throughout the day. He had only a few 
days before we met made the ascent of the Grabel- 
horn,—a summit considerably more difficult, I be¬ 
lieve, to reach than the Matterhorn itself. 

I was detained in Zermatt until the 22nd of 
July, to await the inquiry instituted by the govern¬ 
ment. I was examined first, and at the close I 
handed in to the court a number of questions which 
I desired should be put to the older Taugwalder; 
doing so because that which I had found out re¬ 
specting the ropes was by no means satisfactory to 
me. The questions, I was told, were put and an¬ 
swered before I left Zermatt; but I was not allowed 


THE MATTERHORN. 


109 


to be present at the inquiry, and the answers although 
promised, have not yet reached me. 

This, sir, is the end of this sad story. A single 
slip, or a single false step, has been the sole cause of 
this frightful calamity, and has brought about misery 
never to be forgotten. I have only one observation 
to offer upon it. If the rope had not broken you 
would not have received this letter, for we could not 
possibly have held the four men, falling as they did, 
all at the same time, and with a single jerk. But, 
at the same time, it is my belief no accident would 
have happened had the rope between those who fell 
been as tight, or nearly as tight, as it was between 
Taugwalder and myself. The rope, when used pro¬ 
perly, is a great safeguard; but whether on rocks, 
or whether on snow or glacier, if two men approach 
each other so that the rope falls in a loop, the whole 
party is involved in danger, for should one slip or 
fall he may acquire, before he is stopped, a momen¬ 
tum that may drag down one man after another and 
bring destruction on all; but if the rope is tight this 
is all but impossible. 

Edward Whymper. 


Letter to the Times, dated Aug. 7 th, I 860 . 


VIII. 

THE PIC DU MIDI OF THE PYRENEES. 

ASCENT IN 1797 BY K. DE MIRBEL. 

We waited with a sort of impatience for the melting 
of the snows off the slopes of the Pic du Midi de 
Bigorre, in order to attempt a journey to this cele¬ 
brated mountain. Eamond had approached it in 
the beginning of July, but he had found the road 
impracticable, and had not been beyond the Lake 
of Oncet. From that date to the 22nd, the sun had 
been only hidden at intervals by light clouds. Its 
heat, concentrated in the valleys, had warmed the 
atmosphere; the frost was gone, and now no obstacle 
stood in our way. 

We formed a party of thirteen or fourteen per¬ 
sons, and we set out at four o’clock in the morning. 
The greater part of my companions took horses to 
the foot of the Pic, but as for me I went on foot, 
according to my usual custom, carrying on my back 


THE PIC DU MIDI. 


Ill 


the tin box in which I meant to put all the rare 
plants which I might find. I was armed with a 
long stick tipped with iron, and shod with nailed 
shoes. 

We followed the valley of Bareges, along the 
Bastan, and gained the slopes of the Tourmalet. At 
its base, opens towards the north a little lateral 
valley, from which flows a stream, which afterwards 
joins its peaceful waters to those of the impetuous 
Bastan. The valley of Bareges here softens a little 
the roughness of its frowning slopes, for its soil, 
somewhat less arid, is covered with verdure, and its 
meadows are decked with flowers. The bushy as¬ 
phodel, with its stem and leaves of brilliant green, 
and its white flowers streaked with rose, grows here 
abundantly, and raises its head above the more 
modest though not less beautiful flowers. The saxa- 
tile veronica, clinging by its ligneous stalk to the 
rocks, whose sharp points crop up here and there in 
the meadow, seems to wish to hide them from the 
traveller. Its pretty deep blue flowers, with their 
two white anthers, enable one to recognise it from 
a distance. We also found here the yellow gentian 
and the Alpine plantain. 

The valley which leads to the Pic ends at the 
Lake of Oncet, where we stopped to breakfast. 
Those who have not climbed mountains cannot form 
an idea of the pleasure which there is in making the 
most frugal repast beside a limpid stream, after a 
long and weary journey. It seems as if the keen 


112 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


air led one back naturally to primitive habits; and 
truly the amateur mountaineer in visiting a new 
clime seems to gain altogether a new life. 

The borders of the lake are adorned with the 
violet biflorous, whose golden flowers are interspersed 
amidst the bright green soil; here and there also 
we perceive, on the sides of the banks, the yellow 
arnica bending over the lake; while the scented 
spurge-laurel showed itself near the precipices, its 
creeping stems covered with pink flowers, and scent¬ 
ing the air with its perfume. 

On the west of the lake high mountains rose 
perpendicularly from the water; on the north, the 
rocks were not practicable ; but they were rather 
lower on the east, and allowed us to get glimpses 
of the Pic du Midi. This, then, was the way 
which we must take, and the ascent was gentle and 
easy. 

The sun was already gilding the summit of the 
mountains, and it warned us to be on the march. 
We left one of the guides in charge of our horses, 
and set forward slowly towards the top of the Pic. 
The rarefaction of the air, the appearance of the 
vegetation, the silence of nature, the solitude in 
which we found ourselves, all told us that we were 
approaching high regions. A dry turf, parched and 
shining, covered the rocks, and a few alpine plants 
were visible here and there. Among them we 
noticed the spring gentian, and the stemless gentian, 
those two inseparable companions, which, born in 


THE PIC DU MIDI. 


113 


the same latitude, are always found in the same 
spot, whether that be the water-side, or the barren 
rock, the grassy lands, or the leafless mountain. 



The Pic du Midi. 


Sometimes, also, pretty tufts of silenas refreshed the 
eye, and near them the drasa with its grey flax 
flowers spread its delicate foliage and blossoms to 
view. Further on, in tlie midst of fallen heaps and 

1 










114 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


ruins of all sorts, the monuments of the power of 
time, grew in the interstices of the stones some pale 
flowers which seemed to find life even in the bosom 
of destruction ; and around them fluttered the most 
brilliant butterflies. 

After an hour and a half’s march, we arrived 
at the summit of the Pic. The vapours of night 
were dissipated, the sky was clear, and the sun shone 
brightly. The entire chain of the Pyrenees lay 
like an amphitheatre around us. On the right rose 
Neouvielle, a granite rock crowned with eternal 
snow; on the left, the Breche de Poland, the tower 
of Marbore, and the Mont Perdu, whose distant 
peak towered above all the others. Turning towards 
the opposite side, we discovered an immense plain, 
which seemed at length to lose itself in the horizon. 
The view embraced at once mountains, precipices, 
glaciers, ancient snows, aerial lakes, the immense and 
silent workshops of nature, and fruitful fields 
watered by fertilising streams of the mountain tor¬ 
rents. Those peaks, which once seemed to me only 
a useless chaos, and the result of some strange 
caprice of Nature, now appeared as the sublime work 
of a beneficent Hand. I gazed intensely on this 
marvellous world of which my imagination could 
hardly take in the extent, and the contemplation of 
which filled my soul with enthusiasm. 

Flowers also still adorned the plateau. The snap¬ 
dragon of the Pyrenees inserted its slender roots in the 
clefts of the rock, and the light blue of its flowers 



THE PIC DU MIDI. 


115 


only set off the purple of the saxifrage. By its side 
were seen the golden corollas of the Alpine poppy. 
The saxifrage is a rare ornament of mountains, but 
here the precipices sheltered it; and it rivalled the 
snow itself in the purity of its whiteness. 


B. DE Mirbel. 


116 


IX. 

THE BEECHE DE EOLAND. 

ASCENT IN 1797, BY B. BE MIRBEL AND J. PASQUIER. 

I WOULD not have undertaken such an expedition as 
this had I not found in M. Jules Pasquier a man 
made, as it were, to share its fatigues, and full of 
zeal in the search after the secrets of nature. He 
had admired the beauties of the Pic du Midi; but 
they had only kindled his ardour and increased his 
longing for further adventures. He knew that 
through snows and glaciers some intrepid men had 
found a way even to the highest point of the Py¬ 
renean chain; and that was enough to stimulate his 
ambition and to make him despise the dangers. 

We set out from Bareges on the 8th of August, 
1797, at six o’clock in the morning. Arriving at 
Luz, we took a guide, and continued our route 
towards the valley of Gravarnie. Through this one 
almost trembles as one passes. All is grand, mag¬ 
nificent, sublime; and man surrounded by these 
august monuments, acknowledges his own littleness 


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THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 


117 


and the might of a sovereign Hand. Such was my 
first thought when I penetrated into this valley ; 
the second was more pleasing to my amour propre, 
I could not see without admiration or without pride 
that road, constructed on the edge of a frightful 
precipice, which the noise of the Gave renders still 
more terrible. Here, indeed, man has employed at 
once his powers of mind in the conception, his 
strength and address in the working, and his per¬ 
severance in the execution. The valley ascends 
from north to south. To the east and west rise 
sharp rocks formed of calcareous banks sloping 
almost perpendicularly to the south, and running 
from the east to the west. Often the rock, rising 
from the bottom of the water towards the heavens, 
only presents a wall which seems to defy human 
efforts ; sometimes it is more inclined, and yet more 
difficult to cross, on account of the long slippery 
places formed of schistose debris^ of loose stones 
fallen from the peaks, and of loose soil, too, which 
was always ready to roll downwards. Yet here 
they have managed to make a road, which is safe, 
commodious, and wide enough to reassure the most 
timid horseman. One cannot see this road without 
astonishment, now rising with the mountains, then 
falling with its descent; now avoiding it altogether, 
then joining it again, and even sometimes passing 
from one bank to the other, as an arch over the 
torrent, and thus opening a passage across the rocks 
from the plains of France to those of Spain. If the 
daring character of this great work excites the 


118 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


curiosity of the traveller, the variety of its ground, 
and the originality of the whole, do so much 
more. 

The valley also everywhere presents different 
aspects. The verdant carpet, which adorns the rich 
basin of Luz, is prolonged far on to the mountain. 
Carelessly thrown over gentle slopes, crowned with 
a rich vegetation, and embellished with picturesque 
cottages, it seemed to say, ^ This is the Yale of 
Tempo.’ But all at once this green turf disappears, 
and to the rounded knolls succeed sharp rocks, while 
vigorous trees give place to trunks torn by tempests 
and nipped by frosts, which bend over the precipice. 
The grove, enclosed between rocks, storms and 
foams, boils and tumbles, while roaring cascades 
precipitate themselves on all sides, and the threat¬ 
ening rocks hang over the traveller’s head. 

When I saw this valley for the first time I 
seemed to proceed from marvel to marvel; but what 
struck me most, was the view from the bridge of 
Sia. Some time before we reached this, the banks 
of the Grave were clothed in less rude forms; its 
waters slackened their course; there they seemed 
almost to drag themselves through thick pastures, 
and under trees, whose branches met at the top and 
hid the river from sight. We had thus gone nearly 
a quarter of a league when a deafening noise was 
heard, and soon, as if by magic, we found ourselves 
on the bridge which, until then, had remained con¬ 
cealed. It is partly covered with ivy; its buttresses 
are supported on the rock; and the Grave rolls its 


THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 


119 


waters at more than a liiindred feet below the arch. 
On the left, tlie mountain again resumes its frowning 
aspect; on tlie right, on the contrary, it retains its 
graceful form. In the front of the picture you 
perceive the toiTent, which, narrowed by the sides of 
the rocks, rises gradually, swells and falls with vio¬ 
lence whenever there is a fall in the ground, then 
suddenly becoming calm again, it slowly continues 
its course. 

We soon arrived at Gedres. This village is 
situated at the foot of the Coumelie, a granite rock, 
which is the point of division between the valley of 
Heas and the valley of Gavarnie. 

The nearer we approached to the end of our 
journey, the more imposing did the view become. 
Strange and twisted forms had now given place to 
shapes more grave and regular; and lively and 
brilliant colours to soft and uniform tints, which 
blended the aerial summits with the azure sky. 

We saw, in passing, the beautiful cascade of 
Saousa, which hills in fine rain into the Gave, and 
which one might take for a light gauze agitated by 
the wind. Further on is the frightful solitude of 
La Peyrade, of which no one could form an idea 
until he has seen it. Picture to yourself a moun¬ 
tain whose broken peaks have crumbled one over 
the other, accumulating in the bottom of the valley 
in such high lumps of rock, that their size asto¬ 
nishes the eye and fatigues the imagination. The 
rest of the peak which felt this frightful concussion 
lias for ages threatened to bury these immense 


120 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


debris under fresh ruins. Enormous blocks were 
first precipitated into the torrent, and thus they 
stop the smaller masses which pile one over the 
other. These blocks are separated by great inter¬ 
stices, of which the engineer has made use in con¬ 
structing the road. 

It was only two o’clock when we arrived at Ga- 
varnie. We were not tired and therefore continued 
our way towards the Valley of Ossau, in order to 
profit by the evening. This valley is divided into 
several branches; we chose that which leads to the 
lake of the Espessieres. On the banks of this lake 
young horses were grazing: they are sent into the 
mountains during the fine season. Alarmed at our 
approach, they quickly mounted the sides of the 
mountain, and gained with ease the steepest sum¬ 
mits, where they seemed to defy us to get at them. 
But we managed to allure them into the plain again 
by holding out to them some handfuls of salt. 
Whilst we were engaged in stroking them the Mar- 
bore and the Breche de Roland became covered with 
clouds; a violent clap of thunder resounded among 
the mountains, and the frightened horses escaped 
from our hands. Trembling for the success of our 
enterprise we again took the road to Gavarnie. 
But soon the sky cleared, the clouds dispersed, the 
setting sun coloured the peaks with a bright carna¬ 
tion colour, and the rainbow arched the whole with 
its brilliant colours. 

We recommenced our ascent at four o’clock in 
the morning, conducted by an excellent guide 


THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 


121 


named Rondo, whom a friend had sent us. To¬ 
wards five o’clock we began to discover the summits 
of the Marbore, which one might take, at a distance, 
for towers, for their forms are so regular. After 
three quarters of an hour’s march we found our¬ 
selves in front of the amphitheatre of Gavarnie, 
whose majestic appearance is beyond all description. 
At first sight one might be tempted to think it a 
work of man, on account of the regularity so seldom 
seen in the great works of nature. But the bold¬ 
ness of the design, the richness of the forms, the 
enormous masses of rock heaped one on the other, 
the grandeur of the architecture, at once simple 
and elegant, and, above all, the abundance and the 
variety of forms in the different parts, soon ad¬ 
monish the beholder—even while he admires the 
wonderful symmetry of the whole,— of the presence 
of a superior Agent. Immense layers, each retir¬ 
ing further back as the mountains rise, form steps 
covered with snow, and glaciers from whence fall 
numerous cascades. On the left of the amphi¬ 
theatre, an impetuous torrent rushes from the 
mountain, strikes in its fall a projection of rock, 
and from thence rebounds into the circus. This 
magnificent cascade, measured geometrically by 
Reboul, is about 1266 feet high. One might be 
tempted to doubt this fact, if the learned mathema¬ 
tician who affirms it did not inspire entire confid¬ 
ence. Nearly all strangers who visit Gavarnie think 
it an exaggeration to give 300 or 400 feet to its 


122 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


cascade! Most of them, it is true, have never tra¬ 
velled among mountains, and do not consider how 
each particular object loses in consequence of the 
imposing grandeur of the whole. This celebrated 
place offers, perhaps, all that is most astonishing 
in the structure of mountains. It presents to the 
naturalist great problems to solve and new systems 
to establish ; to the painter a sublime whole in which 
are found united grace and vigour in the forms, 
vivacity and richness in the colouring, and harmony 
and unity in all the parts. 

The sun already gilded the summit of the towers 
of the Marbore, when we took the road to the Breche 
de Eoland. Eondo marched first, leading the way. 
M. Pasquier followed him, and I, sometimes before, 
sometimes behind, gathered plants or examined the 
structure of the rock. I had told Lagunier, our 
guide from Luz, not to go far off, in order that 
he might come to my aid in case of need. We 
had to climb the rocks in front of the cascades; and 
we travelled by a road that was frightfully steep. 
Formed by the fall of rounded and moveable stones, 
it lay along the perpendicular rock, against which 
we clung, and by the side of a frightful precipice. 
Such was the road which we had to follow for half 
an hour. Another soon presented itself which was 
more dangerous still. But the intrepid Eondo ad¬ 
vanced first. The rock was exactly perpendicular ; 
all parts of our body were placed against it; we 
placed the points of our feet over the little juttings 


THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 


123 


formed by the slipping of the layers, and we sup¬ 
ported ourselves by clinging with our hands to the 
projections above us. This painful attitude became 
almost intolerable when Kondo was obliged to stop 
before some new obstacles. Then each of us stiffen¬ 
ing himself against the rock which repulsed him 
behind, remained suspended on weak supports, hav¬ 
ing under him a precipice of 2000 fathoms in depth. 
Happily this situation did not last long. We soon 
arrived at a delicious plateau, on which we found a 
large flock of sheep and goats watched by Spanish 
shepherds. They were taking their first meal, and 
their dog came up to us and seemed, by his caresses, 
to invite us to join them. Milk was offered to us 
which we gratefully accepted. 

At some paces from thence we crossed a little 
valley of snow, and soon perceived before us the 
Breche de Eoland, which had long been hidden from 
us by the peaks which came between it and us. But 
we were separated from it by great glaciers, and no 
-way of avoiding them presented itself. Lagunier, 
alike frightened by the danger which he had run, 
and by the obstacles which remained to be conquered, 
declared positively that he would not go a step fur¬ 
ther ; and we felt that we had better not urge him, 
thinking that he would be rather a charge than a 
help. 

We went on into a new snow valley, much larger 
than the first, and of a more exquisite appearance. 
On the north, the Taillon raises its perpendicular 


124 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


strata to a prodigious height. On the south, the 
first steps of the wall of the Breche are clearly to be 
seen; but on the west, the brilliant carpet of snow, 
in its dazzling whiteness, follows softly the sinuosities 
of the rock, falls and rises with it, folds itself in a 
hundred ways, and mounts slowly towards the region 
of eternal ice, where a bluish tint modifies its white¬ 
ness. Whilst we were admiring the magic beauty 
of these places, a troop of izards, with straightened 
necks, heads raised, noses in the air, and their feet 
firm and sure, rushed from a neighbouring rock, 
stopped on the snow, astonished at our presence, 
and all at once, with the rapidity of lightning, 
cleared the icy plain, and jumped from rock to 
rock, and from peak to peak, appearing and disap¬ 
pearing before our eyes twenty times in a minute, 
until they stopped at last perfectly quiet on the steep 
crest of the Taillon. 

After having marched for some time in this 
snow valley, we directed our steps towards the gla¬ 
ciers which were on our left. A Spanish smuggler 
accompanied us. More accustomed than we to this 
sort of march, he cleared, with great rapidity, the 
first belts of the glaciers, and already had left us 
far behind, when, on a sudden, the ice opened under 
his feet, and he sank, uttering a piercing cry. We 
thought him lost, and ran to help him if there were 
yet time. He was wedged between the walls of 
ice, and thus suspended over the gulf, when M. 
Pasquier arrived. We helped him to disengage 


THE BRECHE DE ROLAND. 


125 


himself and get out, while the dangers into which 
the slightest imprudence might throw us came for¬ 
cibly to our minds. Kondo was full of care for us. 
•He cut the ice with a hatchet, and thus formed 
steps for us, which became every moment more use¬ 
ful as the ice became harder and harder and resisted 
our iron-pointed sticks. We walked on silently, 
looking carefully at our feet, and casting our eyes 
rfrom time to time over the gulf into which the 
^hiallest accident would have precipitated us, and 
over the passage which remained for us to make. 
This painful ascent lasted for nearly a quarter of an 
hour, during which, in the most perilous parts, we 
could not sometimes prevent a little quaking of fear, 
which, however, we soon repressed. 

We came at last to the end of our journey; the 
precipices were left far behind, and the dangers which 
we had run were only thought of in contrast with our 
present security, and as they led us to attach a higher 
value to the sublime spectacle which was presented 
to our view. An immense wall rises between 
France and Spain; it is formed, like the Marbore, 
of perpendicular beds and horizontal layers. A 
breach, cut at right angles, is the door of communi¬ 
cation for the two countries. Standing on the 
threshold of this magnificent portal, you see on the 
east and on the west the insurmountable barrier 
raised by nature between the two people : while, on 
the north and south, you look over the lands sub¬ 
ject to their respective dominions. 


126 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


It was nearly one o’clock when we quitted the 
Breche. We descended the glaciers with great pre¬ 
caution, and got out from these dangerous regions 
without accident. The same evening, at ten o’clock, 
we were back at Bareges. 

B. DE Mtrbel, Extract from an unpublished 
narrative. 


127 


X. 

MONT PEEDU. 

ASCENT IN 1797 BY M. RAYMOND. 

We set out from Bareges on the 2Dth Therinidor of 
the year V., corresponding to the 11th of August, 
1797, precisely ten years after my journey to the 
Monts Maudits, and twenty years after my first 
journey in the Swiss Alps. I must be pardoned for 
recalling dates of which the memory is so pleasant 
to me; they have left remembrances of which no 
disagreeable idea breaks the charm. 

Our party was numerous on this occasion. La 
Peyrouse was accompanied by his son, one of his 
pupils, citizen hVizac of Toulouse, and by citizen 
Ferri^re, the gardener to the central schools of this 
town. I was accompanied by Mirbel and Pasquier, 
who had just made the ascent of the BrMie de 
Poland, and by Corbin and Massey of Tarbes, both 
my pupils, and of whom the latter will often be 
mentioned with praise in the work which I am about 
to publish on the plants of the High Pyrenees. 


128 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


Once down in the basin of Luz, we filed along 
that highroad of naturalists, the Valley of Gevres, 
so justly admired, yet so often described that it is 
almost superfluous to enumerate its singularities. 
Its precipices and cascades, and the difficulty of the 
road which leads through it are well known. Of 
what materials its walls are constructed along which 
one walks, as it were suspended over a precipice, is 
well known also. 

We ascended the Coumelie by a tortuous and 
yet steep pathway, by which the flocks of GMres 
pass over the pastures of the middle region. A 
number of barns are scattered over these rich spots, 
and form three hamlets dependant on Heas, Gedres, 
and Gavarnie. We only found there a small num¬ 
ber of inhabitants and of flocks, for at this time of 
year they are still in the higher mountain regions. 

We passed the night in a barn, rather disturbed 
by the uncertainty of the weather. However, the 
south wind which had covered the Marbore with 
clouds from Spain, at last yielded to the north wind 
which brought down the clouds from France. The 
former are always high, and cover the peaks; the 
latter are low, and creep over the bases of the moun¬ 
tains. By degrees they filled the valleys in wdiich 
we were, forming an immense sea through which the 
different peaks pierced just about our level. I 
hoped for a fine day. 

The best part of the night was employed in pro¬ 
viding myself wdth guides. I had brought from 
Bareges the two men in whom I have most con- 


MONT PERDU. 


129 


fidence, my Laurens, who scarcely ever leaves me, 
and Antoine Moure, who supplies his place some¬ 
times. These are mountaineers of proof; but in 
the places which we were going to examine, they 
were as much strangers as I was. I had then to 
S3ek at Heas an isard-hunter, who had been much 
recommended to me for the knowledge of Mont 
Perdu which he possessed, though, as it turned out, 
he knew no more than we did. I added to him two 
inhabitants of the Coumelie, who served me much 
better, thougli they did not know any more about 
the locality; and at dawn of day we took the road 
of the Valley of Estaube, keeping over the pastures 
of the Coumelie, which may be traversed as easily 
as a floor. 

We had hardly turned from the east towards the 
south when we were struck with the imposing ap¬ 
pearance of the valleys of Heas and of Estaube, en¬ 
circling, as they do, enormous mountains, although 
only the secondary parts of them: of which the 
ecpially grand and simple forms contrast singularly 
with the horny ruins and dismembered granites 
which we had left behind us. From hence the sum¬ 
mit of Mont Perdu is visible. It is very apparent 
and nevertheless not very noticeable to those who 
are not on the look-out for it. It consists of an 
' oblique and blunted cone, and glistens with the 
eternal snows which rise above the high walls of the 
valley of Estaube. I pointed it out to my young 
companions, who, seeing it so clearly, thought them¬ 
selves already nearing the end of their journey. 


130 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


Yet it did not take us less than four or five hours 
to reach just the foot of the wall; and of this wall 
which we had either to turn or to climb, I took the 
measure with an uneasy eye. 

But we were entering the valley of Estaube, and 
in silence we contemplated its quiet solitudes. It 
possesses, at the same time, the calm of the upper re¬ 
gions, and of the secondary grounds. Some mountains 
which appeared considerable, even without having re¬ 
gard to their elevation, astonished us still more by the 
simplicity of their forms, which is noticed usually 
only on the borders of great chains, and in the 
neighbourhood of places where they degenerate into 
mere pillars. The masses, boldly modelled, present 
smooth, yet striking contours, which no strange ac¬ 
cident has caused to pass the limits of the beauti¬ 
ful. All rise and fall in just proportions. Nothing 
spoils the harmony of a design both severe and bold"; 
and the colour, too, so transparent and pure,—it is 
light grey a little warmed with pink,—suits equally 
the light 01 shade, and softens the contrast between 
them. This colour is continued up to the very azure 
of the sky. 

There were very few fallen masses, and especially 
recent ones. Vegetation flourishes up to the very 
foot of the rocky ridges. It has even, here and 
there, taken possession of some old rocks. A little 
river with grassy banks flows peacefully over a 
stony bed, and afterwards, further on, it becomes a 
torrent. There, the service-tree overshadows Solo¬ 
mon’s seal, which is rare in our mountains, though it 


MONT PERDU. 


131 


here acquires uncommon dimensions. Over the de¬ 
clivities of the lateral mountains may be seen the 
red pine which here defies the axe. All the blocks 
are adorned with the light plumy bunches of the 
superb long-leaved saxifrage. In uncultivated ground 
there is sometimes found the carline of the Pyrenees, 
and sometimes the beautiful panicant described by 
Gouin, and which here changes sometimes from 
amethyst to crimson. On the turf there are those 
two carlines particularly mentioned by Allioni and 
Villars, the second of which, described under the 
name of acanthus-leaved carline, may be known by 
the golden colour of its calyx crown. 

There can be nothing more brilliant or more 
splendid than a piece of turf bedizened with those 
two carlines. 

We pressed on, and at length we all sat down be¬ 
fore these mountain walls of Estaube, which seemed to 
rise higher as we advanced towards them. Already we 
could see that fine glaciers lay under the fields of snow 
which in some parts diversified the landscape. At last, 
after four hours’ march we found ourselves just under 
the intermediate glacier ; and we stopped to gaze on 
those walls which seemed to tower up to the very 
skies. The place in which we were is the highest to 
which shepherds go. The name of couilas is given 
to their temporary encampments; and this one was 
called the couila of the Abassat-dessus. We here 
met two Spanish shepherds belonging to that set of 
them who rent the highest pastures of the Pyrenees 
for their travelling flocks. These two men were 


132 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


stretched by the side of a hut, made of dry stones, 
just large enough to contain them sitting or lying. 
That was all the shelter that these two nomades, or 
rather half-savages, who inhabit this region only 
for some days in the fine season needed. Sometimes 
they dispensed with a hut of any kind, and made 
shift with the shelter of some overhanging rock. 

To have met two men of this sort, two real 
habitues of the environs of Mont Perdu, appeared 
a most fortunate adventure in our ascent up the 
mountain, and we were all eager to ask them ques¬ 
tions. But the shepherds had only passed a few 
days in this region of eternal snow; and their replies 
were only half satisfying me, when a smuggler of 
their nation came up and joined them. This latter 
was quite an authority. Forced to avoid the beaten 
roads, and to trust to the chances of the most dan¬ 
gerous paths, we felt that he must know Mont 
Perdu almost better than any one; and, as it proved, 
his advice differed greatly from that of the shepherds. 
Whilst he and they were discussing the question of 
the route we took a little repose, and I, according to 
my custom, formed my plan. 

The unanimous result of their consultation was, 
that we must pass the ‘ Port de Pinede,’ descend 
into the valley of Beousse, and remount on the right 
by some very steep rocks which they said were 
always practicable. But to ascend again for two 
hours just to have to descend one,—then to climb 
rocks which must occupy us for four or five more— 
this plan would just bring us up to Mont Perdu 


MONT PERDU. 


133 


when it would be time to leave it again. I had 
been considering the glacier below which we stood. 
It was still covered with snow ; and this snow must, 
I imagined, make it practicable; the inclination was 
great, but not an insuperable difficulty; and the 
glacier led to a breach which seemed to open right 
on the face of Mont Perdu. So I declared that I 
was resolved to try the chances. This the shepherds 
thought outrageous, for though they allowed that 
these snows are sometimes practicable, yet they did 
not believe them to be so when grey spots showed 
the surface of the glacier to be visible through them. 
At first the smuggler alone applauded me, though 
my faithful Laurens afterwards took my side. The 
others smiled, and our local guides were just the 
most incredulous and the least courageous. It was 
necessary, however, to put an end to this state of 
indecision ; so I declared that I should ascend the 
glacier with whoever would follow me; and as obsti¬ 
nacy never fails to decide irresolution they all came. 
As to the smuggler, he had already followed his own 
plans; and very soon we lost sight of him. 

We went directly towards the mouth of the 
glacier by slopes that were steep enough, certainly ; 
yet they were grassy, and seemed to have only lately 
emerged from the snow which covers them for seven 
or eight months of the year. The fresh green was 
in its spring, and the ground covered with Alpine flora. 

However, we approached the steep sides of the 
mountain, and then what had seemed the smallest ob¬ 
jects acquired enormous dimensions. At last we 


134 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


reached the debris which comes down from the moun¬ 
tain, and which forms the moraine of the glacier. We 
were obliged to step on to the snow and face the 
threatening couloir at the top of which we expected to 
find Mont Perdu. At first this was a mere game; the 
snow had a good consistency and a moderate inclina¬ 
tion ; and we went on with all the confidence which 
experience of mountains gives. But we had not 
gone fifty steps when the inclination increased ; and 
we could see that it continued to do so. We looked 
above our heads, and still the ground became steeper. 
Our pace slackened; we stopped and consulted what 
was to be done. I saw that La Peyrouse remained 
behind, and got him to try the cramping irons which 
I used, and which my pupils had adopted after my 
example; they were those which De Saussure had 
used in his most perilous journeys. But the help 
was as strange to him as the place which obliged 
him to have recourse to them. Nothing, at his age, 
could give him the requisite mountaineering habits. 
So I conjured him not to load me with the respon¬ 
sibility of his safety; he consented to leave us, and 
thus we parted at the moment on which I had most 
reckoned on the assistance of his learning. 

I left him then at the bottom of the glacier with 
my brave Antoine, whom I had attached to his ser¬ 
vice; and they seated themselves on a rock from 
whence they could see us slowly continuing our way. 
We had not proceeded a quarter of an hour when 
the snow became so hard that our footsteps made no 
impression on it. So we had to think carefully of 


MONT PERDU. 


135 


our footing and to help ourselves with our hatchets. 
Then we settled ourselves into a file and took care 
to plant our feet in the steps cut by the three first 
of the column, a work in which the gardener, Ferriere, 
distinguished himself, his heartiness contrasting 
strangely with the sang-froid of our other moun¬ 
taineers. During the first hour all went well. We 
carefully avoided the uncovered part of the glaciers, 
and by means of numerous zigzags, prudently man¬ 
aged, we were avoiding the difficulty of a slope 
which varied from thirty-five to forty degrees, when 
all at once we perceived a man distractedly clinging 
to a rock from whence he called to us for aid ! It 
was our smuggler, and a long track in the snow told 
his story. The unfortunate man had ventured with¬ 
out cramping irons, without a hatchet, without any 
of the means of safety which men of his trade never 
fail to carry; and he had slipped down more than 
two hundred paces, from being too near the edge of 
the rock. And, once launched, it was inconceivable 
how he had ever succeeded in stopping himself. We 
should have liked to fly to his assistance, but could 
only move slowly. However, we succeeded in res¬ 
cuing him at last, and then we placed him in 
our ranks. He had lost his hat, his waistcoat, 
his pack of merchandise, and he had had a greater 
loss still ; fcr he had lost his stick wdiich had pre¬ 
ceded him down the precipice, and which we could 
not restore to him. The other things were scattered 
about, and we soon recovered the waistcoat and the 
goods. But the hat had stuck in a dangerous place ; 


136 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


it cost US a quarter of an hour’s labour, although it 
was within twenty steps. 

It was in vain, however, that we had put the poor 
fellow in the very middle of our party ; he could not 
recover his composure. Our assurance acted less on 
him than his uneasiness did on my companions. I 
saw already on the faces of two of them signs of fear 
of which I dreaded the consequences. At every step 
they asked me to measure the inclination of the gla¬ 
cier, which was as much as sixty degrees. It was now, 
therefore, a question whether we should change our 
route, and try the rocks at the side of the ice. This 
was not, in my opinion, desirable; but the general 
uneasiness increased. Twice we waited while our 
two guides from the Coumelie attempted the escalade. 
Each time they were constrained to come down again. 
It was necessary to return to the snow, where, by 
means of our old manoeuvre, there was really nothing 
to fear except the discouragement of the party. 
The glacier was here at its greatest inclination, and 
we were also at our last effort. Above, the slope 
became visibly more gentle, and the ice was hidden 
under snows of a whiteness so pure as to indicate the 
summit of the ridge, standing out against the deep 
blue of the sky. The only question now, was how 
to triumph over an obstacle beyond which our ima¬ 
ginations showed us the top of Mont Perdu. We 
gathered up all our remaining strength. We mutu¬ 
ally animated and encouraged one another. At each 
step that we took, we saw the distance lessening. 
The breach which had long been hidden from us by 


MONT PERDU. 


137 


the edge of the glacier, reappeared in gigantic pro¬ 
portions, and already we felt the cold wind which 
rushed through the great opening. We hastened on, 
we pushed forward, and, out of breath, we reached 
the desired point. An exclamation of delight was 
uttered by all: but a deep silence succeeded at the 
sight of a new world, of the depths which separated 
us from it, of the glaciers which girded it round, of 
the clouds which covered it; a frightful and yet 
sublime spectacle by which our senses seemed over¬ 
powered. A single instant had sufficed to develope 
it in all its majesty; but for several moments we 
could not collect our senses. ‘ There is Mont Perdu ! 
There is Mont Perdu !’ said one to another, and still 
no one could single it out from the chaos of rocks, 
snows, and vapours. 

And it was not without reason that we saw 
^lont Perdu everywhere; everything here belongs to 
it, everything is a part of it, even the ridge which 
we had reached, and which was only separated 
from the highest point by a depression or erosion of 
a part of its sides. This peak was before us, a little 
to the left, white shaded with grey, and apparently 
retreating in the midst of a thick cloud of haze 
which moved slowly round it. On the right stood 
out the Cylindre, more sombre than this cloud, more 
menacing than Mont Perdu itself, set up on its 
enormous pedestal about the level of which we stood, 
and so near us, that it appeared as if we could touch 
it with our hands. It signified nothing that I had 
seen it a hundred times at a distance ; it appeared to 


138 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


me more fantastic than ever. Always invisible from 
the intermediate stations, it had suddenly grown into 
a colossus which was magnified in my eyes by the 
remembrance of its first appearance. This figure of a 
truncated tower which recalls the idea of known di¬ 
mensions, contrasting with proportions to which no¬ 
thing is comparable, its situation, colour, proximity, 
the vapour in which it was enveloped, all concurred 
to make this enormous rock the most extraordinary 
object in the picture. It was to this that all eyes 
constantly returned. It was this that the guides 
persisted in calling ‘ Mont Perdu.’ 

But what was still more unexpected, if possible, 
than these strange sights, what no former view had 
prepared us for, what we could only look on from the 
height of the observatory on which we were placed, 
was the indescribable appearance of the majestic 
support of these two summits. Cut out by the same 
scissors which have fashioned the flights of the Mar- 
bore, it presents a succession of steps sometimes 
draped in snow, sometimes covered with glaciers which 
at times overflow and pour themselves one over the 
other in large and motionless cascades, even to the 
borders of a lake of which the surface, still frozen, 
but freed from the snows, shone with a quiet brightness 
which heightened the dazzling whiteness of its banks. 

This lake, the desolate area in which it reposed, 
the mass of ice which bounded it on the south, the 
black walls which surmount it, the Cylindre and 
Mont Perdu towering up into a stormy sky, and 
that rocky, naked, and rugged enclosure, from one 











■X-':^-‘r -Jj::t'/4^ ■/ .^.C: 


MON I TF RIH . 











» 




MONT PERDU. 


139 


of the battlements of which we were contemplating 
the most imposing and frightful scene in the Pyre¬ 
nees ; all and everything defied comparison; nothing 
at first presented itself by comparison with the 
known dimensions of which we could estirhate 
the size of the whole; and we should have been 
reduced to a vague notion of heights and dis¬ 
tances if accident had not furnished us with a deter¬ 
minate object in a troup of izards which wandered 
over the ice of the lake and drank in the crevasses. 
At the first cry tliey fled over the rocks, leaving us 
alone in these vast deserts, the extent of which they 
had enabled us to measure. 

It was time to settle what we should do in order 
to visit the attainable points. I had not been slow 
. to perceive that the way to the peaks was closed to 
us by the chaotic state of its glacier, and the steep¬ 
ness of its sides. Even the izards had avoided them 
in their flight, although that woidd have been the 
shortest way to escape from our view ; and they had 
gone the whole length of the lake in order to take 
refuge in the more accessible heights which separate 
the Cylindre from the region of the Marbore. But 
we might descend into the basin. The slope, though 
rapid, was absolutely free from danger; and once 
on the level of the lake and its icy surface opened 
communications with several parts, and nothing hin¬ 
dered us from following the paths taken by the 
izards up to the western ridge of the Cylindre, and 
over the last steps of Mont Perdu. 

But we had to think of returning; it was mid- 


140 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


day, and the state of the sky indicated an approach¬ 
ing change in the weather. If we spent the rest 
of the day here, we should have no longer a choice 
of the way to retreat, and our only resource would 
be to go back by the same way that we had come. 
But those of my companions who had trembled at 
the perils of the ascent, could not, without imprud¬ 
ence be exposed to the more real danger of that 
descent. In default of convenient roads we must 
at least choose dangers not so well known to them. 

I remembered the declivity of the valley of Beousse, 
which the Spanish shepherds regard as the natural 
road from the lake. According to them, this way 
communicated with the back of the Port de PinMe. 
It was a long detour, certainly, and if we took it we 
must give up, from that time, any new enterprise ; ♦ 
but, on the other hand, the smuggler assured me 
that these rocks were very practicable, and that he 
was going part of the way himself to get to the 
valley of Faulo. I could then recross the lake the 
next day, and possibly conduct La Peyrouse into these 
extraordinary places where I had already regretted 
his absence so many times. So I quickly decided 
to inform him of my movements. I wrote to him 
to pass the Port de Pinede directly, and to wait for 
us at the bottom of the valley of Beousse in a ruined 
house which I described to him from the smuggler’s 
description of it. I told him of my design of re¬ 
turning next day, and of my hope that he might be 
able to go with me. I gave the note to one of the 
guides from Coumelie, who decided to carry it over 


MONT PEKDU. 


141 


the valley of snow at the bottom of which he must 
still be. The departure of my courier was not the 
least affecting episode of the journey. We had to 
watch him clambering through the snow, helping 
himself with his hands, and going with the greatest 
care, that he might not miss the track of our steps. 
All these delaying obstacles which he encountered 
were bad auguries for the success of his embassy: 
and the event justified the foreboding, it was again 
in vain that I had hoped to conduct La Peyrouse to 
Mont Perdu. 

However, I gave a last look at the rocks of the 
the beach, and my companions, whose predilection 
was for plants, drew my attention to the few spe¬ 
cimens of vegetation which managed to resist even 
the bitter winter of a region of 9000 feet at least 
above the level of the sea. The northern exposure 
only offered us one plant; but it was the glacial re- 
nonculus, which is so rare in the Pyrenees that I 
had only found two specimens at the top of Neou- 
ville, and of them I had been obliged to send one to 
La Peyrouse, in order to persuade him that it was 
there. In this place it was abundant and superb, 
but suspended to rocks which were exceedingly steep, 
and which were themselves suspended over such a 
formidable precipice, that in order to get some all 
our zeal for science was called forth. Mirbel and 
Pas(|uier first seized some, and their example en¬ 
couraged the others. No one had made such a bold 
step before; and none had been made so heartily. 
From the bosom of the lake rose a chain of rocks. 


142 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


which formed a long promontory. The shapes 
of this chain indicate a perfect similitude between 
its structure and that of the bases of the Cylindre: 
this, therefore, offered to me an object of comparison 
which must take away all m}’’ doubts. 

I descended quickly. The lake was covered with 
a thick ice, the crevasses of which it was easy to 
jump ; and I soon gained the promontory. I found 
the rock divided into horizontal layers, like the steps 
of the Marbore, the walls of the Breche de Boland, 
and the Cylindre and its platform. But then these 
layers? Were they only on the external edges or 
strata running through ? The first stroke of the 
hammer answered the question: they were only 
external, and the strata were vertical. I was 
going to strike a second time into the body of 
the rock when I perceived on its surface a reddish 
projection. I looked nearer, and recognised a piece 
of a pol^^pary. I looked again, and I saw the 
upper valve of an oyster ; then some fragments of a 
madrepore, then of other broken zoophytes, of which 
I could not determine the species. ... I cried 
out, called my companions, and assembled them on 
the rocks, which were all clammy with the remains 
of various organisms. And I showed them these 
venerable remains, which on the sides of Mont 
Perdu had a very peculiar importance. They 
spread themselves over the promontory, and eagerly 
tore up everything which could be distinguished 
from the substance of the stone; and working myself 
with a new ardour in the midst of these ardent 


MONT PEKDU. 


143 


workers, I enjoyed a pleasure which no one could 
share with me—that of having opened so fine a field 
of observation to future travellers, who perhaps will 
find there some day what the actual state of our 
scientific knowledge did not permit us to see. 

It was a pleasant thing to see the pupils of two 
rising schools in possession of a field of which the 
learned would envy us the discovery; and I could 
not unmoved see these young men gaining from 
this first success a passion for research and a thirst 
for learning. They themselves felt the influence of 
the place, and gave themselves up to transports 
which almost amounted to delirium. 

‘ Let us stay here,’ they said ; ‘ to-morrow per¬ 
haps we shall accomplish the ascent to the peak.’ 

‘ But the cold of the night ? ’ 

^ What is a night with such a hope before us ?’ 

‘ But what about food ?’ 

‘ Oh, they would do without that; ’ fatigues, fears, 
dangers—all were forgotten: prudence and fore¬ 
sight were at a discount. The ice was no longer 
terrible; the thick clouds which encircled the sum¬ 
mit were no longer threatening, when all at once 
there was heard from these very clouds a fearful peal, 
which echoed and thus multiplied itself many times 
among the rocks. The most determined turned 
pale; they thought that they could already see the 
storm breaking over these frightful solitudes, and 
that it would shut us in: it was, nevertheless, 
nothing but a fall of snow from the upper steps of 


144 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the mountain : but the impression was made, and 
now they only thought of getting away. 

Hardly had we passed the lake when we found 
ourselves on the edge of a precipice, of which no 
other would give any idea. It seemed as if the 
earth had altogether on a sudden escaped from 
beneath our feet. On whatever side we turned there 
seemed nothing but a precipitous declivity and steep 
walls. On the left the mountains of Estaube, on the 
right Mont Perdu, plunging into an immense pro¬ 
fundity, and forming two long parallel chains, which 
were made of the same rock, cut out by the same 
model, and which enclosed between these enormous 
boulevards the valley of Beousse, over which we 
stood, as from some height on the airy regions, and 
which gradually disappeared from view. 

Truly this valley was ravishing, lying in the 
midst of the rocks, which serve as battlements to it, 
and of the snows which fertilize it. Eich in the 
luxury of nature, and lovely in its wild beauty, it is 
just the earth in the first days of its birth, and before 
man had subjected it to cultivation. I sought in 
vain for any traces of the region being frequented: 
but neither stronghold, nor road, nor pathway, nor 
inn could be seen; travellers avoid this wild region, 
which they either cannot or dare not face, and which 
whoever approaches may easily think himself the 
first who has done so. Those meadows without 
flocks, those shades which have never been planted, 
those virgin forests, those box-hedges which have 


MONT PEKDU. 


145 


never been clipped, and that torrent which rises in 
Mont Perdu, the Cinca, so proud of its origin, so 
impetuous, so ungovernable, coursing along in a 
cutting full of ruins—all these things must be seen 
to be imagined. The eye follows this river in its 
course, and wanders with it in the desert, where it 
travels without obstacle and without witness. It 
seems to flee, and you follow it still; the eye seeks 
on the edge of the horizon the last rippling of its 
waves. The ear catches eagerly the last murmur 
which the wind brings back. It escapes all the 
senses at last in the deep valleys where it runs ; and 
then the imagination still pursues it to the distant 
banks where the Ebro receives those waters of which 
we here saw the secret springs. But, after all, what 
is the great hidden charm of these deserts ? What 
involuntary, deep, and imperious feeling holds me in 
these places where my fellows have not established 
their empire ? What irresistible inclination cease¬ 
lessly draws back my thoughts and my steps, 
and holds and amuses my fancy in the vain desire 
there to build my cottage and bring up my family ? 
Wliat is civilization if it still leave in our hearts an 
imperishable regret for our old independence ? What 
is society if man, whom she has fashioned to her 
will, and attached to her by habit and necessity, 
cannot escape an instant from the crowd which con¬ 
strains him without shedding a tear at the thought 
of the necessity which plunges him back into it ? 

Kamond. Voyages au Mont Perdu, 


146 


XI. 


NORTH CAPE. 

VOYAGE OF JOSEPH ACEEBI, IN 1798. 

We set out for Alten on Monday, the 15th of July, 
at two o’clock in the afternoon, and we did not 
arrive at the Cape till the night between the Friday 
and Saturday following. Three miles from Alten 
we passed on our right a mountain, called in Nor¬ 
wegian Himellar, or Heaven-man, from which there 
fell into the sea five or six cascades, two or three 
hundred yards of perpendicular height. Further 
onward was another grand cataract, where we 
quenched our thirst. We went up into the moun¬ 
tains to see the place where it had its source, and 
were surprised to find at their summit very beautiful 
natural meadows. Still further off we again saw a 
fine cascade running down from another mountain. 
All these waterfalls were supplied, no doubt, by the 
melting of the snow on the distant mountains, which 
formed, as it were, the back-ground of the picture. 
The cascade last mentioned was precipitated from a 



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NORTH CAPE. 


147 


hill, adorned on three sides with a wood of birch, 
spread in the manner of an amphitheatre, so tliat it 
appeared as if it had been planted by the hand of 
man. In the midst of this pleasure-ground stood a 
wooden house, covered with turf, and inhabited by a 
family of fixed Laplanders. I wished to pay them a 
visit. One of our guides, however, besought me not 
to go there immediately by myself, but to send him 
on before me, because, said he, the family will per¬ 
haps be frightened at the sight of a stranger of so 
ditferent an appearance to their own. He went into 
the house, but found nobody there; it was com¬ 
pletely deserted; the family had either gone on a 
fishing excursion, or were in the mountains tending 

their rein-deer.We returned with regret to our 

boats, and it was not without pain that we bade adieu 
to so charming a prospect, which bore a striking- 
resemblance to all that is most romantic and beau¬ 
tiful in the natural scenery of Switzerland. 

There was not a breath of wind, and our boat¬ 
men were much fatigued with rowing in so great a 
heat. In order to give them some respite, and to 
gratify our own curiosity, we visited all the Laplanders 
settled on this coast, who generally lived at the dis¬ 
tance of a Norwegian mile, or mile and a half from 
one another. Abundance and contentment reign in 
all their dwellings. Each Laplander is the proprietor 
of the territory around his little mansion, to the ex¬ 
tent of a Norwegian mile, or eight English, in every 
direction. They have some cows, which furnish them 
with excellent milk, and meadow-land, which yields 



148 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


hay for their fodder in winter. They have every one 
a store of fish, dried in the sun, not only for their 
own use, but wherewithal to purchase luxuries—that 
is, salt, oatmeal, and some woollen clothes. Their 
houses are constructed in the form of tents — a hole 
in the middle, which gives them light, serves also as 
an aperture for letting out the smoke of the fire. 



Island of Lofoden, North Cape. 


which is always placed in the centre of the cabin, 
and around which they sleep quite close to one 
another. In winter, besides the heat of the fire, 
they have the benefit of the animal warmth of the 
cows, with whom they share the shelter of their 
roof, as the inhabitants of Scotland do in the High¬ 
lands and the northern isles. The doors of their 





NORTH CAPE. 


149 


houses in summer are always open, and although in 
that season there is no night, they are accustomed to 
sleep at the same time as other Europeans. . . . They 
not only sleep with their doors wide open, but so 
soundly that it is not easy to rouse them. The fact 
is, that they are not to be exposed to any kind of 
danger or disturbance. They are far removed from the 
anxieties of fear that attend envied possession; and 
the only wild beasts that could possibly give them 
any alarm or uneasiness are the wolves and bears. 
But these animals never attack houses, as they pro¬ 
cure sufficient nourishment by following the wander¬ 
ing Laplanders with their rein-deer. . . . 

In one of the families we visited we witnessed a 
very tender and affecting scene, which convinced us 
that sensibility is not banished from those northern 
latitudes. At three o’clock after midnight we en¬ 
tered a cabin, in which there were, besides the master 
of the house, his mother, his young wife, and two 
infant children. They were fast asleep, and we waited 
for some time that we might awake them gently: 
they all of them lay on the ground, which they had 
covered with the branches and leaves of the fragrant 
and aromatic birch; over these were spread some 
rein-deer skins. They slept, as the maritime Lap¬ 
landers do in general, with their clothes on; but these, 
being very large and loose, occasion no inconvenience 
by impeding in any degree the circulation of the blood. 
The wife awoke first, and casting her eyes on one of 
our boatmen, whom she knew, she was glad to see 
him, and entered into conversation with him in Lap- 



150 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


ponese. The husband and his aged mother also 
awoke soon after, but the children continued in their 
sound sleep. The old woman perceiving our Lap¬ 
lander, burst into a flood of tears; the young woman 
likewise wept, so did the boatman; and so by in¬ 
stinctive sympathy did we all, without knowing why. 
For a moment we preserved a dead silence, when our 
interpreter having entered the cabin, and found us 
in tears, asked in Finnish the reason of all this 
sorrow. The occasion was this, the old woman had 
seen the boatman about a year before, when she was 
in perfect health, but since that time she had been 
seized by a fit of apoplexy, which had totally de¬ 
prived her of the use of speech. After this general 
emotion had subsided, we asked for some rein-deer 
milk and cheese. Our landlady immediately went 
out of the cabin and conducted us to the store, 
which was a little wooden box or shed raised upon 
beams to a certain height from the ground, that the 
provisions it contained might not be damaged by the 
snow of winter. We were astonished at the quantity 
of things this good and provident woman had in her 
magazine. There was great plenty of dried fish and 
dried rein-deer flesh, cheese, and tongues of the 
rein-deer, oatmeal, rein-deer skins, fur and woollen 
clothes, and other articles. Every thing bespoke 
riches and comfort; and what was most remarkable, 
our kind hostess gave us whatever we wanted in the 
most liberal manner, and without the least idea of 
receiving aught in return; on the contrary, she per¬ 
sisted in refusing to accept any money when we 


NORTH CAPE. 


151 


offered it. I have seen few places where the people 
live in so easy and happy a simplicity as in tlie mari¬ 
time districts of Lapland. . . . 

We left this cabin to pursue our voyage, but after 
proceeding five or six English miles, we were obliged 
by the wind again to land. . . . We travelled seven or 
eight English miles on foot, and found here and 
there among those mountains delicious spots and 
valleys, enclosed by hills that were covered with 
birch and some other trees. We came at last to a 
mountain Laplander’s tent, and our curiosity was 
satisfied: this tent was of a conical form, and not 
shaped as tents are in general. In the middle was 
the fire, and around the fire sat the Laplander’s wife, 
a boy, who was his son, and some inhospitable and 
surly dogs, which never ceased barking at us all the 
time we remained near them. F'ast by the tent was 
erected a shed, consisting of five or six sticks or 
posts that were fastened to one another near the 
top, in the same manner as the tent, and covered 
with skins and pieces of cloth: under this canopy 
the Laplanders kept their provision, which were 
cheese of the rein-deer, a small quantity of milk of 
the same, and dried fish. 

A little further on was a rude enclosure or part¬ 
ing, made in haste, which served as a fold or yard for 
the rein-deer when they were brought together to be 
milked. Those animals were not near the tents at 
the time of our visit; they were in the mountains, 
from whence they would not descend till towards 
night. As we did not feel ourselves disposed to 


152 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


ramble about in quest of them, at the hazard of 
losing ourselves among a series of mountains, we 
judged it more advisable to offer some brandy to the 
Laplanders, on condition that they would go with 
their dogs and bring the rein-deer home, or as near 
as they could to the tent. Scarcely had they swal¬ 
lowed the brandy which we had given them as an 
earnest of more, wdien we heard the shrill barking 
of the dogs resounding through the mountains. The 
Laplanders then told us that the rein-deer were 
coming, and very soon after we beheld a troop of not 
less than three hundred deer descending from the 
mountains in a direction towards the tent. We then 
insisted that they should drive the rein-deer within 
the enclosure near the tent, that we might have an 
opportunity of seeing and examining them better, 
and tasting the milk fresh from the does. They did 
as we desired, but not without very great difficulty, 
because the animals, not being accustomed to be 
shut up in the fold at that hour of the day, were 
unwilling to be confined; and it was not till after 
repeated efforts that the Laplanders were able at 
last, with the assistance of the dogs, to compel them 
to enter. We then had time to view them at our 
leisure. Tliese poor animals were lean, and of a 
sad and melancholy appearance: their hair hung 
down, and their excessive panting indicated how 
much they suffered at this season from heat; 
their skins were pierced here and there, and ul¬ 
cerated by the mosquitoes, and the eggs of the fly, 
called in Lapponese kerrna, which tormented them in 


NORTH CAPE. 


163 


the most cruel manner. I made a collection of 
those insects and their eggs, intending them as 
presents for my entomological friends. As to the 
milk which we tasted, it is not so good at this time 
as in winter. In summer it has always a kind of 
strong or wild taste, and too much of what the 
French call haut gout. 

Our guides advised us to return to the boats, and 
avail ourselves of the favourable breeze that had 
sprung up for pursuing our voyage, and we took 
leave of our Laplanders, whose only regret at our 
departure seemed to be mortification at the re¬ 
moval of the brandy. We passed in our boat the 
Whaal-Sund, or Sound of Whales, which was 
agitated at the same time by the current that sets in 
here very strong, and by the wind, which blew con¬ 
trary to the current. Whales resort to this strait in 
great numbers, and are, as we were told, very common 
in all these seas. Although we were assured by our 
mariners that they never passed this strait without 
seeing eight or ten whales, we were so unfortunate as 
not to get a sight of one. We went on shore to the 
house of a merchant, situated on an island near 
Havesund; this was perhaps the most dismal habi¬ 
tation on the face of the earth. The whole land 
around it did not produce one tree or shrub; no, not 
so much as a blade of grass; there was nothing to 
be seen but naked rocks. The inhabitant of that 
house had not anything but what he brought from a 
distance, not even fuel. The sun for three months of 
the year is not visible; and if during that space of 


154 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


time the atmosphere were not illuminated by the 
aurora borealis, he would be buried in profound 
darkness. Dreadful place to live at! The only at¬ 
traction in these abodes is fishing, and the love of 
gain. The nearer one approaches to the North Cape 
the more nature seems to frown: vegetation dies, 
and leaves behind it nothing but naked rocks. 

Proceeding on our voyage, we left on our right 
the strait formed by Mageroe, or Bare Island, of the 
continent. The vast expanse of the Frozen Ocean 
opened to our left, and we arrived at last at the 
extremest point of Europe, known by the name of 
the North Cape, exactly at midnight. 

The North Cape is an enormous rock, which pro¬ 
jecting far into the ocean, and being exposed to all 
the fury of the waves and the outrage of tempests, 
crumbles every year more and more into ruins. 
Here everything is solitary, everything is sterile, 
everything sad and despondent. The shadowy forest 
no longer adorns the brow of the mountain ; the 
singing of the birds, which enlivened even the woods 
of Lapland, is no longer heard in this scene of desola¬ 
tion; the ruggedness of the dark grey rock is not 
covered by a single shrub ; the only music is the 
hoarse murmuring of the waves, ever and anon re¬ 
newing the assaults on the huge masses that oppose 
them. The northern sun, creeping at midnight at 
the distance of five diameters along the horizon, and 
the immeasurable ocean in apparent contact with the 
skies, form the grand outlines in the sublime picture 
presented to the astonished spectator. The incessant 


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NORTH CAPE. 


loo 


cares and pursuits of anxious mortals are recollected 
as a dream ; the various forms and energies of ani¬ 
mated nature are forgotten; the earth is contemplated 
only in its elements, and as constituting a part of the 
solar system. 

Joseph Acerbi. {Travels through Sweden, 
Finland, and Lapland, to the North Cape, in 
the years 1798 and 1799.) 


THE BROCKEN. 


The Brocken is the name of the principal mountain 
of the picturesque chain of the Hartz mountains, in 
the kingdom of Hanover, From its summit, raised 
about 10,500 feet above the level of the sea, may be 
seen a plain of 70 leagues in extent, occupying 
nearly the twentieth part of Europe, and having a 
population of more than 5,000,000 of inhabitants. 

From the most remote historical epochs, the 
Brocken has been the theatre of the marvellous. 
On the top of it there may , still be seen blocks of 
granite, called the Seat and the Altar of the Sorceress; 
a spring of limpid water is named the Magic Foun¬ 
tain ; and the common name of the anemone which 
grows on this mountain is the flower of the fairies. 
We may presume that these names owe their origin 
to the worship of the great idol which the Saxons 
secretly worshipped on the summit of the Brocken, 
when Christianity was already dominant in the 
plain. And as the place in which this worship was 
celebrated must have been much frequented, no 


THE BROCKEN, 


157 


doubt this spectre which so often haunts it at the 
rising of the sun was taken notice of in these long 
past times. So tradition says that this spectre had 
its share in the tribute paid by the superstitious. 



The Brocken. 


If all who constantly live in sight of the Brocken 
desire to ascend it at least once in their lives;—if 
all other Germans who, though it lies out of their 
horizon, have often heard of it and aspire also to 
enjoy the spectacle in question, which, living as they 
do in the plains, their imagination is unable to re¬ 
present to them by any analogous image, it is easy 
to conceive what an influence this mountain has 









158 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


in the fine season. Still it has only been since the 
beginning of this century that the fashion of visiting 
the Brocken has become an established one. It 
appears that all the exaggerations of the eighteenth 
century were necessary to interest men in its beau¬ 
ties. Before that there were few, beside the wood¬ 
cutters, who were eager enough about it to attempt 
a difficult ascent. Towards the end of the last 
century, the number of the curious increasing, the 
Count of Vernigerode, whose principality lies under 
the sides of the mountain, and embraces the moun¬ 
tain itself, taking pity on those who suffered from 
tempests on these heights, and sympathising with 
those who wished to pass the night there, in order 
to witness the rising and setting of the sun,— caused 
a hotel to be constructed on the top. It was finished 
on the 10th of September, 1800. One of the servants 
of the Count’s household, an excellent man, who will 
be remembered by all who visited the Brocken during 
his lifetime, was installed as innkeeper, at the 
height of 3500 feet, under the strange condition 
that he should always live there, even during the 
winter,— no doubt in order that it might be said 
that tlie goodness of the Count never fails in any 
weather. So this brave man allowed himself to be 
buried in the snow all the year round with his wife 
and daughter; for it often accumulates even to the 
top of the roof; and they could only breathe and 
see the sky through a little tower in the middle of 
the house. Thus he passed thirty-three years in 
perfect serenity. And from this elevation he could. 


THE BROCKEN. 


159 


in one sense, command all Germany. I must be 
permitted this remembrance of a simple-minded, 
honest soul. The contrast between his patriarchal 
hospitality and the often stormy majesty of the 
mountain, is striking, and, at the same time, resting 
and pleasant. When I ascended the Brocken for 
the first time as a young man, I reached the top at 
eleven o’clock at night, having lost my way, and 
being pierced through and through with the cold ; 
but some dogs, in answer to my call, signalised my 
approach, and the good Gerlach came running to 
meet me with a lantern and some brandy. Next 
morning, when I left, he would descend with me as 
far as the forests, and his eyes were full of tears. I 
was, no doubt, the last visitor whom he would see 
that year ; for the snow already threatened to entomb 
them. This year I did not find him there; and I 
could not help mourning for him, for his name is 
attached to the history of the mountain. 

The Brocken is now a sort of necessity to the 
people of Lower Germany. They love to contem¬ 
plate from its summit that fatherland which seems 
so parcelled out and divided to those who do not 
view it from above. Students, above all, go there 
in numbers. There are universities all around,— 
Marburg, Gottingen, Jena, Leipzig, Halle, Berlin; 
and the ascent of the Brocken is a sort of exercise 
which the students feel obliged to take. 

It is not, however, only on account of this sin- 
gidar spectacle which is seen from the summit, but 
from the nature of its rocks and firs, that the 


160 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


Brocken has become famous among the poets. It 
is here that, for a long time, if we are to believe the 
tradition, all the witches in Grermany have held 
their rendezvous. They even assert that the devil 
himself hailed down the rocks \Yhich cover the cupola 
of the mountain. 

For some years past the ascent of this moun¬ 
tain has been wonderfully facilitated. I have re¬ 
lated with what difficulty I formerly mounted. In 
order to understand this, it is necessary to know that 
the Brocken is not a mountain, but literally a heap 
of stones. It is probable that originally it was 
composed of high needles of granite, of -^ffiich some 
are still to be seen in other parts of the Hartz. 
In course of time these needles have become di¬ 
vided into enormous blocks, which have fallen and 
accumulated around the base, so that, at length, 
nothing but ruins remain of the primitive edifice. 
It is amidst these blocks that the fir-trees have rooted 
themselves. The waters filter through and roar 
below, and every moment after you quit the regular 
paths, you run the risk of falling into some bog, 
which is half covered with moss and large plants. 
Otherwise, there is scarcely a precipice, I may say 
scarcely a ravine, into which one could fall. It is 
a squat monster, on the round back of which a man 
may easily climb. This time I ascended it, not on 
foot, not on a mule, not in a chair carried by 
porters; I went up in a post-chaise. They have 
made an excellent road, as sure and safe as the gravel 
path of a park, without any danger, without any 


THE BROCKEN. 


161 


difficulty, without even a jump; and by just paying a 
very moderate toll, every one is free to avail himself 
of it. I could not believe my eyes when I found 
myself in my carriage, with my Hanoverian postilion 
smacking his whip and blowing his horn on this 
height, which had cost me so dear at my first 
ascent. Add to that, that I had travelled from 
Dresden to Harzburg during the day, and had 
reached the foot of the Brocken after a journey of 
300 miles by railway. 


THE HEXENTANZPLATZ.— THE ILSENSTEIN. 

It was in the midst of a wild and desert place, 
among heaps of naked and sombre rocks, between 
which the Bode winds its course, that in former 
times the sorceresses of the north held their solemn 
meeting every year on the first of May. The place 
was well chosen, and few persons were likely to 
have the indiscretion to trouble their rendezvous. 
Even in our civilised times, in full daylight, under 
the azure of a fine sky, and in the glad rays of the 
sun, these dark shapeless masses, so rugged and so 
strange, arrest the smile on the lips of the traveller, 
and cause him to think that, however little super¬ 
stitious he may be, he would feel rather strange 
about midnight, on some peak, or in some dark 
passage of this convulsion of nature, which has the 
appearance of a petrified tempest. Let him sup¬ 
pose, to increase the effect, that heavy clouds were 


162 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


hanging over the summits, that pale lightnings and 
heavy thunders were seen and heard, and there 
would be wanting few favourable conditions to any 
one who wished to assure himself that he was at all 
times master of his nervous system. 

It is on the Hexentanzplatz that Goethe has 
placed the scenes of the witches’ meeting (the Wal- 
purgis night) in the drama of Faust— 

‘‘ How strangely across these abysses shines a 
northerly and dim light, which penetrates even 
into the depths of the gulf! There rises a vapour ; 
further off an unhealthy exhalation. Here, through 
a veil of mists, flashes a warm brightness, sometimes 
like a light thread, sometimes breaking out as from 
a living source. Here, it winds in a thousand 
streaks across the valley, and further on, in a narrow 
gorge, it collects all at once. Near us fall a rain of 
sparks, which cover the soil with a gold dust; but 
look there, in all its heights, the wall of rocks is in 
a blaze. 

Mephistopheles.— ‘‘Does not Lord Mammon 
light up his palace splendidly for the feast ? ” 

We can now ascend quite easily on to the Plateau 
of the Witches, thanks to a staircase of eleven 
hundred steps. There we are almost opposite 
to the granite rocks of the Eossetrappe (Horse’s 
Hoof-print). From the one side you command the 
valley of the Bode; from the other a vast plain 
towards the west. 

The Hsenstein, like most part of the Hartz 
Mountains, is isolated, and terminates the chain of 



niK i5k<h ki:n 














































•» 








THE BROCKEN. 


163 


mountains which go towards the east, towards the 
plateau of Thuringia. It is in front of the Brocken, 
and is an immense block of granite, which rises to a 
peak at more than 300 feet above the valley, in 
which flows the little river Use, forming an innu¬ 
merable number of cascades, which are particularly 
charming, from their bright and smiling appearance 
in the midst of such stern scenery. 

According to tradition, there was at the summit 
of the Ilsenstein an enchanted palace, inhabited by 
a king of the Hartz, named Ilsan; and he had a 
daughter of remarkable beauty, named Use. A 
wicked fairy caused this charming princess to die of 
jealousy. She is still to be seen sometimes, as the 
superstitious people think,* bathing in the river 
which bears her name. If she meets a traveller, 
she conducts him to the interior of the mountain, 
where she loads him with riches. Perhaps the 
meaning of this legend is, that this mountain con¬ 
tains, like the Eammelsberg, precious mines. The 
summit is reached by a steep pathway, which passes 
over blocks of naked rock of the most singular 
forms. 

From the Ilsenstein you gain the top of the 
Brocken by an easy and picturesque road. This 
mountain, the usual end and aim of excursions in 
the Hartz, is estimated very differently by persons 
Avho have made the ascent. As on the Biglii, the 
common desire of tourists is to see the sun rise; 
but though a pure sky is favourable for the spectacle, 
there are also unexpected moments which answer the 


161 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the traveller’s wishes as perfectly. We had started 
in the evening from Ilsenstein in very bad weather; 
but we had the good fortune next day to witness one 
of the curious sights which leave a much stronger 
impression than that of a splendid and vast pano¬ 
rama stretched out beneath one’s feet. The clouds 
which were crowded over the valley in a compact 
and heavy mass, resembled a sea formed of immense 
and motionless waves; electric currents passed from 
from one to another from time to time, but without 
producing the least noise. At this moment the sun 
rose, and, by a strange contrast, lighted up, in a 
reddish tint, the upper part of the mountain on 
which we were, without communicating any of this 
lively colour to the lower mass of clouds, which re¬ 
tained their leaden hues: it seemed as if all the 
bright rays were broken one by one, and decom¬ 
posed on their surface. The effect was magical: it 
appeared like two different worlds seen the one from 
the other,— the earth seen from some superior planet. 
To describe faithfully what we felt at this moment 
would require the genius of Milton or of Dante. 


Magasin Pittoresque. 


165 


XIIL 


PARNASSUS. 

Castri is the name of a miserable village perclied 
on a rock, like the nest of a bird of prey; it is also 
tlie name borne in the present day by the site of 
Delphos, the ancient sanctuary of Apollo. 

At a little distance from Arakliova, ascending by 
roads where the Klepht alone can venture witliout 
trembling, you arrive at excavations worked in the 
rock and consecrated formerly to tlie god Pan and 
tlie nymph Gorycia. A long inscription, all de¬ 
faced, indicates the Gorycian cave, to which access 
for horses was practicable in the time of Pausanias, 
who declares that he had never seen a grotto more 
spacioUvS, or more beautifid; but now a great part 
of it is filled uj) by water and ruins. It was at the 
Gorycian cave that the Thyades, priestesses of 
Athens, used to assemble at one time of the year, 
calling to them the women of Phocis and foreign 
women, wliom devotion brought to Delphos. Be¬ 
coming excited at last, by their mysterious practices. 


166 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


and for the time being, in a state of delirium, they 
then mounted the most impracticable paths, and 
reached the highest peak of Parnassus. There, lost 
in the clouds, they gave themselves up to strange 
madness in honour of Apollo. 

Some ruins of marble sarcophagi, hidden under 
the vines which on this side cover the stony and 
rapid slope of the valley; a subterranean chamber 
into which it is easy to penetrate; the impression 
of the hinges and of the enormous nails of a door in 
the rock; a door which closed, as they say, a secret 
road leading to the tripod of the Sibyl; some little 
columns sustaining the external vestibule of a poor 
church; a basement wall, which they regard as in¬ 
dicating the place of the temple of Apollo, in which 
the god used to be, and on which may be read an 
inscription well preserved, recording the decrees 
made in honour of the benefactors of the temple, 
the names of several architects employed in con¬ 
structing or enlarging it, and the enfranchisement 
of a slave by his consecration to the god : lastly, all 
along the only path which traverses the valley, 
niches of various sizes cut in the rock, and in which 
the image of a Madonna has taken the place of the 
rich oblations of the Pagans:—this is all which is 
left to remind us of the existence of proud Delphos. 
No temples nor statues covered with gold, and 
shining in the sun; no longer any dances, or 
games, or solemn processions, or assemblies of the 
people; no Amphyctions regulating the destinies of 
Grreece; no more conquerors eager to tear from 


PARNASSUS. 


167 


heaven the secret of their future lives ; no longer any 
philosophers bowing before the sagest and truest 
device which the genius of Paganism ever brought 
forth : “ Know thyself.” 

All has disappeared, just as on the day after a 
fHe^ the splendid scaffoldings, the music, the dances, 
and the pleasure-seeking people, are gone. The 
pale and sorrowful Sibyl seems alone to inhabit 
these sombre and desert places. In a dream into 
which the imagination easily falls, one sees her 
pass, unhappy in her glory and in her involuntary 
science, and conducted by inflexible priests, who 
force her to sit on the fatal tripod, where the god 
awaits her with his furies, his delirium, his tortures, 
and his obscure lies. This recollection is the only 
one which vividly strikes the mind when you stop 
at Delphos. All around are abysses, half open and 
yawning gailfs, resounding echoes, rocks blackened 
as if by fire : such was, and such is still, the valley of 
Delphos. 

If the riches and the magnificence destined to 
veil the terrible mysteries have disappeared. Nature 
is there just the same. Now, as formerly, the 
Phocean, who comes to dream, to seek the shade, 
or to gather flowers, must pass over to the other 
side of Parnassus, in order to find the green 
and melodious forests of Daulis. Some olive-trees 
grow in the hollow of the va^l y at the outlet from 
which they become more abundant, until they form 
a great wood on the plain, vdiich extends to the 
gulf. In the night, if you awake, you hear the wind 


168 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


which comes ceaseless!}^ from the sea, and beats 
against the sides of the rocks, making most lugu¬ 
brious noises; and yet, at some paces from thence, in 
the bay and on the banks of Crissa, the same wind 
sings or sighs in soft and melancholy tones. At 
Delphos, it becomes a dull groaning, a prolonged 
plaint, which fills the soul with sadness, and makes 
you fear when you listen to it, that the ancient 
oracle may have recovered its voice, in order to 
reveal to you the future which lies before you. 

Y. Gemeniz, Voyage en Grece, 

The Greeks have placed the dwellings of the 
Muses, that is to say, the source of poetical inspira- 
tiou, as well as the dwelling of the gods, on the 
highest summits,—there where earth seems to touch 
heaven. The Muses haunted Olympus, Fieri a. 
Helicon, and, above all, Parnassus. 

Parnassus is one of the most beautiful mountains 
of Greece; on its snowy summits walked the chaste 
Muses in their purity I The summits of Parnassus 
are often enveloped in clouds. ‘‘ Who ever saw 
Liakoura without clouds ?” said Lord Byron. This 
peculiarity agrees with the destiny which ancient 
mythology attributed to the holy mountain. The 
poetical creation is a mystery; it was becoming to 
envelope it in mysterious clouds. 

Among the Greeks, all inspirations were sisters; 
Parnassus consecrated the alliance of poetical and 
religious enthusiasm. Whilst the Thyades cele- 





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PARNASSUS. 


169 


brated there those dances which the madness of 
Bacchus had animated, the Pythian, seated on the 
tripod, breathed in tlie prophetic emanations of the 
mountain, Apollo had his temple there, in the place 
of which there now flourishes a laurel, an emblem of 
the inspiration which does not die. The Muses 
bathed there in the stream of Castalia, which is still 
flowing, and whose remarkably pure and light water 
is a charming emblem of tlie limpid poetry of 
the Greeks. Ingenious in linking the natural pe¬ 
culiarities of places with ideas, such as the flibles 
connected with those places express, the ancients 
had placed the temple of Apollo at the foot of the 
peaked rocks named the Brilliants (Phedriades), 
which reflect even now with so much power the 
arrows of the god. In their eyes the god of light 
and heat was the god of verse; and they dedicated 
to him a steep and inaccessible peak. The perfec¬ 
tion of art is a warm and lurniuous summit, up 
which no pathway leads, and to which only the 
flight of a divine will carries any one. 

Above the site of the ancient Delphos rises the 
double summit so often invoked by poets. It stands 
over against the very picturesque grotto, from which 
flows the spring of Castalia. M. Ulrichs points out 
that certain Latin poets, such as Ovid and Lucan, 
who never were at Delphos, seem to believe that the 
two peaks, at the foot of which the town was built, 
form the culminating point of Parnassus, whilst 
Parnassus has really only one peak, and that is 
true in every sense, at least of the ancient Parnassus. 


170 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


Oae eveniug, at Drachmani, fioding myself at 
the foot of the Parnassus, and following with my 
eye the vultures which hover over its sides, 1 
recalled the famous line,— 

“ C’est en vain qu’au Parnasse un t6meraire auteur.” 

I found an immense effort of reflection necessary to 
convince me that this proud mountain, which stood 
erect before me, bathing its rocks, its firs, and its 
abysses in the violet tints of evening, was really the 
Parnassus of Boileau. 

On the other hand, I really found the Parnassus 
which was before me in the ancient poets, and 
above all, in Euripides. And while gazing on those 
rocks, glittering, as they were, in all the brightness 
of a southern sun, I did not feel the words of the 
poet in the Phenician Virgins” at all too strong:— 

“ Thou rock irradiate with the sacred flame, 

That blazing on thy artful brow, 

Seems double to the vale below.” 

J. J. Ampere, La Poesie Grecque en Grece. 


The route from the monastery of St. Luke, at 
Delphos, turns along the sides of the Kirphis or 
Xero-Vouni, just where it joins the Parnassus or 
Liakoura. After ascending for about half an hour, 
you come to a little chapel situated in the most 
delicious position, close to a spring of water shaded 
by plantains. There was probably here in old 



PARNASSUS. 


171 


times a religious station for the pilgrims who came 
to Delphos, for the road seemed to follow the old 
route. When once you have passed these ravines 
of the chain of the Kirphis you perceive the entrance 
to the deep gorge from which old Delphos was 
visible. Just at the entrance of this gorge, high up 
in the mountain, on the extreme bounds of the 
cultivated ground, and at the foot of those snowy 
cones which give an imposing physiognomy to the 
frowning brow of the Liakoura, appears like a vigi¬ 
lant watch, the city of Arachova. Some black pine 
forests seem placed near the edge of this sort of 
glacier like a dyke intended to stop the invasion of 
the snows. At the other extremity of this gorge, 
also very high up, at the foot of the porphyry rocks, 
is the village of Castri, built on the ruins of 
Delphos. 

There remained still two hours on horseback to 
turn all the hills and re-ascend as far as to Castri, 
which one always keeps in view; but in proportion 
as we neared it the sight became at each step more 
beautiful. In the lower parts of the hills one has 
to cross short well-watered and well-planted valleys, 
keeping in your eye the fresh valley of the Plistus. 
As soon as the top of the hills is reached, the bay of 
Salona, the gulf of Corinth, and in the distance 
the mountains of the Peloponnesus, become visible. 
Going a little further, we found the sea disappear 
again, and we were in an enclosure of high moun¬ 
tains, and as it were isolated from the rest of the 
world. It must have been a fine spectacle when on 


172 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the solemn feast days the ancient processions used to 
wind away from the two opposite sides, arriving by 
sea at Crissa, and by land on the coasts of Arachova. 
From the time of first stepping on this sacred ground 
the traveller passed over tombs: some had been 
erected on this part of the route, just as a Christian 
of ancient days might have caused his to be erected 
near Jerusalem, or in the valley of Jehoshaphat; 
others have been brought down by the fall of the 
upper rocks, whose enormous fragments lie dispersed 
around. Nothing less than one of those violent 
earthquakes, which are so common here, is necessary 
to precipitate them. 

The tombs continue as far as the monastery of 
St. Elias. At some steps from the monastery flows 
a little river which comes from the spring of Castalia, 
situate a little above, on the right of the road. A 
torrent descends from the Parnassus by a fissure 
between two steep rocks, the rock Naplia and that of 
Hyampeia, down which they say the fabulist ^sop 
was precipitated by the inhabitants of Delphos. When 
it reaches the extremity of this narrow fissure, the 
torrent is received into a short arched passage, and 
flows into a square basin dug by nature itself in the 
rock, but increased a little by the hand of man. 
This basin, which is about 30 feet long by 10 wide, 
encloses tlie celebrated fountain of Castalia. Below 
the fountain, on the side of a rock a hundred feet 
in perpendicular height, are scooped out three niches. 
That in the middle, which is the largest, probably 
contains a statue of Apollo, and the two others the 


PARNASSCS. 


173 


statues of the god Pan and of tlie nympli Castalia. 
A fourth niche, placed on tlie riglit, is sliut in by 
walls, and transformed into a chapel dedicated to 
St. John, which has, no doubt, succeeded to the 
Heroiim* dedicated to iVntinoiis. The Christian re¬ 
ligion has all over Greece establislied its altars in the 
very places sanctified by ancient feelings of reverence. 

. . . Seated on a rock in the sound of the murmurs 
of this torrent, on the edge of the Castalian fountain, 
which two formidable rocks shut in on one side, 
whilst the other opens on to a deep valley—a real 
solitude enclosed on all sides by mountains, I could 
conceive without difficulty the impression of religious 
feeling which must seize on the imagination of 
visitors, and dispose them to receive the decisions ot 
the oracle. 

J. A. Buchon, 

La Grece continentale et la Moree, 

* A little temple erected by the Greeks in honour of 
deified heroes. 



174 


XIV. 

MOUNT ATHOS, 

BY DR. HUNT. 

On Easter Monday, after a stay of five days, we set 
out with mules provided for us by the convent to 
the town of Chariess, in the centre of the Peninsula, 
where the Turkish Aga and the council of deputies 
from all the convents reside for the disposal of public 
business. It was necessary to make this visit, in 
order that our imperial firman and our letter from 
the Greek Patriarch might be examined, and that 
we might be informed how to make the tour of the 
convents with the greatest ease and security. The 
distance from Batopaidi to Chariess is two hours and 
three quarters. About three miles from the former 
we had a most striking view of the summit of Athos. 
The whole ride furnishes a succession of sublime 
Alpine scenery. Instead of the usual salutations 
which are exchanged between travellers who meet on 
the road, the only one we now heard was the Easter 


MOUNT ATHOS. 


175 


congratulation, Christ is risen;” to which the 
answer is, “ He is the true God.” 

Chariess is the only town in the Peninsula, 
situated nearly in the centre of it, on the side of a 
natural amphitheatre, clothed with the richest ver¬ 
dure, and cultivated in a manner to render it highly 



Mount Athos. 


picturesque. The meadows are so luxuriant as to 
be cut thrice in a year, owing to the richness of the 
soil, the complete shelter they enjoy, and the ju¬ 
dicious manner in which the water is distributed by 
irrigation. The vineyards and filbert-gardens are 
also dressed with uncommon care. Excepting the 
houses where the Aga and the council of deputies 
reside, it contains only a few shops, which furnish 
the monasteries with cloth, sugar, tobacco, snuff, and 
cordials. Every Saturday a bazaar or market is 
lield there, to whicli the hermits repair in order to 









176 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


sell what they have manufactured in their solitary 
huts. Knit stockings, pictures of saints, a few 
simple oils and essences distilled from plants, com¬ 
mon knives and forks, on tlie horn-handles of which 
they engrave, with aqua-fortis, a series of ancient 
Grreek moral adages, compose their principal labours. 
The trade of making manuscripts is still practised 
by them; many devout pilgrims preferring a psalter 
or prayer-book written by a hermit on the holy 
mountain to the clearest printed copy. Women are 
prevented from coming to the town, as well as from 
visiting any of the convents, nor is any Mussulman 
permitted to have a shop there. . . . 

As the road we were now^ about to take towards 
Santa-Laura and the hermitages would conduct us 
amongst crags and mountains, and to places wdiere 
there are few mules to be procured, we left the 
greatest part of our baggage to be sent across the 
Isthmus, to the convent of Xeropotamo, there to 
await our arrival. . .. 

The natural scenery here is particularly striking, 
and the summit of Mount Athos, once consecrated 
by the fame and altars of the Athoan Jove, rears 
itself with awful grandeur above the surrounding 
mountains. The manner in which the torrents, 
breaking from the cliffs above St. Anne’s, are dis¬ 
tributed by a thousand little wooden aqueducts, so 
as to water every spot of garden or vineyard, is 
worthy of being remarked. The woods and thickets 
in the neighbourhood are extremely luxuriant, and 
the Arachne arbutus flourishes in such profusion as 


MOUNT ATHOS. 


177 


to supply the common fuel. The season was un¬ 
favourable for our visiting the summit of Athos, 
whence the monks assured us that all the islands of 
the Cyclades may be seen, and even Constantinople, 
in clear weather. They reckon it a journey of five 
hours from the hermitage to the top of Mount 
Athos. 

When the learned Greeks fled from Constimti- 
nople in 1453, they took with them to Western 
Europe their most valuable manuscripts; tliose 
which they left were probably secreted in the monas¬ 
teries. The libraries in the islands of the sea of 
Marmora and of ]Mount Atlios, of the Patriarch of 
Constantinople, and of St. Saba, near Jerusalem, were 
carefully examined by Mr. Carlyle and myself..... 

On taking leave of Father Gerasimos of Chi- 
liantari, we congratulated him on ttie grace and 
tranquillity which his little religious commonwealth 
enjoyed in the midst of the wars and revolutions of 
Europe ; but he replied that, on the contrary, they 
were in a state of perpetual conflict with three most 
powerful enemies—the devil, their own lusts, and 
the travelling caloyers, who embezzle the alms by 
which the convent should be supported. He accom¬ 
panied us to the gate, and shaking us affectionately 
by the hand, said he hoped he had left such an im¬ 
pression of himself on our hearts that we might be 
mutually glad to see each other if Providence ever 
brought us again together, quoting a Turkish 
proverb, “ That mountain never approaches moim- 

N 



178 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


tain, nor island island; but that man often unex¬ 
pectedly meets fellow-man.” 

We had an escort assigned to us of six well- 
armed Albanians ; our road conducted us through 
the most picturesque and magnificent scenery; but 
in some places so dangerous from the precipices 
which beetle over the sea that a false step of our 
mules might have been fatal. Six miles from 
Chiliantari we came to the ruins of a castle called 
Oallitze ; and two miles further we halted to break¬ 
fast under the shade of some Oriental planes near a 
fountain, and the bed of a river filled with scarlet 
oleanders and agnus castus. The spot is called 
Paparnitz; here we saw once more* cows and ewes 
with their young, a proof that we had passed the 
holy precincts. 

From Dr. Hunt’s 'pci'pers. {Extract from 
“ Memoirs relating to European and Asiatic 
Turkeyf edited from MS. Journals by Egbert 
Walpole.) 

* No woman is allowed to enter the gates of any convent 
on the holy mountain ; nor is any female animal permitted 
to come upon the peninsula. The caloyers, or lay brothers, 
tell every traveller that no female animal could live there or 
upon Mount Athos, although they see doves, swallows, and 
other birds building their nests and hatching their young in 
the thickets. 


179 


XV. 

MOUNT ELBUEZ IN THE CAUCASUS. 

Sm R. K. PORTER, OCTOBER 1817. 

Early in the morning we descenSed the northern 
side of the town ^nto a plain, keeping for a consider¬ 
able way along the foot of some high, well-wooded 
ground, after which we ascended again over a suc¬ 
cession of lands until we reached the village and post 
of Zergifskoy, a place situated on the slope of a con¬ 
siderable liill, conspicuous even as far as Stavrapol, 
from its being composed of whitish sand, which from 
that distance has the appearance of snow. Here two 
Cossacks were given me for an escort; but how dif¬ 
ferent were they, both in person and costume, from 
my friends of the Don I Their stature was low, their 
visages rTfgged, and their garb of the wildest and 
most savage fashion. These people belong to the 
foot of the Caucasus; and, as I proceeded further, 
I found most of the inhabitants habited in a similar 
manner. A small cloth cap, bound with sheepskin or 


180 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


fur, fits almost close to their head; while a short 
vest covers their body, and, falling as far as the knee, 
meets a pair of loose trousers, which, stuffed into 
boots, completes the uncouth but picturesque habili¬ 
ment. Their arms are a musket slung across the 
shoulder, protected from the damp by a hairy case ; 
a straight sword fastened to the left side by the belt 
round their waist; a dagger of great breadth, and 
also a large knife, pendent from the same. On the 
right and left of their breast is sewn a range of nar¬ 
row pockets, each large enough to hold a wooden case 
containing a charge of powder; the range usually 
counts six or eight of these cliarges. Independent 
of this magazin^ few go without a light cartouche- 
box attached to another belt which covers the right 
shoulder. Their saddle and the rest of their horse 
accoutrements differ little from the fashion of most 
other Cossacks. But both man and horse are, in 
some measure, protected by their “ houka,'^^ a sort of 
cloak made of the hair of the mountain-goat, and 
only manufactured by the mountainers. This forms 
an excellent defence against rain or wind, when 
brought round the body, but in mild weather it is 
merely tied on behind. In addition to the cloak they 
wear a hood for the protection of the face and ears, 
called a hashlick.''^ No fixed colour marks the uni¬ 
form of the military branch of the imperial Cossacks, 
but brown, grey, and white, seem the favourite hues. 

On quitting Zergifskoy we mounted the height, 
and continued travelling over a country similar to 
that we had passed the preceding day. We hoped 



n: 











































MOUNT ELBURZ. 


181 


to gain the town of Alexandroff before night, but 
were disappointed, and obliged to halt at the village 
of Severnaia, finding it impossible to proceed on so 
dangerous a road after dusk. We set off, however, be¬ 
times in the morning ; and, after traversing a rather 
uneven country, at the distance of eight or ten versts 
from our lodgings, reached the brow of a very steep 
hill, from whence, for the first time, T beheld the 
stupendous mountains of Caucasus. No pen can ex¬ 
press the emotion which the sudden burst of this 
sublime range excited in my mind. 1 had seen almovst 
all the wildest and most gigantic chains in Portugal 
and Spain, but none gave me an idea of the vastness 
and grandeur of that I now contemplated. This 
seemed Nature’s bulwark between the nations of 
Europe and of Asia. Elborus (Elburz), amongst 
whose rocks tradition reports Prometheus to have 
been chained, stood, clad in primeval snows, a world 
of mountains in itself, towering above all, its white 
and radiant summits mingling with the heavens ; 
while the pale and countless heads of the subordi¬ 
nate range, high in themselves, but far beneath its 
altitude, stretched along the horizon till lost to sight 
in the soft fleeces of the clouds. Several rough and 
huge masses of black rock rose from the interme¬ 
diate plain, their size was mountainous ; but being 
viewed near the mighty Caucasus, and compared 
with them, they appeared little more than hills ; yet 
the contrast was fine, their dark brows giving greater 
effect to the dazzling summits which towered above 
them. Poets hardly feign when they talk of the 


182 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


g'enius of a place. I know not who could behold 
Caucasus and not feel the spirit of its sublime soli¬ 
tudes awing his soul. 

After a description of a ten-days’ journey. Sir 
E. K. Porter continues :—The road lay over a con¬ 
tinuation of the extensive plain, part of which we 
had crossed the day before; it bore a direction due 
east. On our right rolled the Terek, breaking over 
its stony bed, and washing with a surge, rather 
than a flowing stream, the rocky bases of the moun¬ 
tains wdnch rise in progressive acclivities from its 
bold shores. The day had begun to clear about 
noon j and the dark curtain of vapours, which had 
so long shut these stupendous hills from my sight, 
broke away into a thousand masses of fleecy clouds; 
and, as they gradually glided downwards, exhaled 
into ether, or separated across the bows of the moun¬ 
tains, the vast piles of Caucasus were presented to 
my view; a world of themselves ; rocky, rugged, and 
capped with snow; stretching east and west be 3 mnd 
the reach of vision, and shooting far into the skies. 
J r was a sight to make the senses pause ; to oppress 
even respiration, by the weight of the impression on 
the mind of such vast and overpowering sublimity. 
The proud head of Elborus was yet far distant; but 
it rose in hoary majesty above all, the sovereign of 
these giant mountains flnely contrasting its silvery 
diadem, the snow of ages, with the blue misty brows 
of its intermediate subject range; and they, being 
yet partially shrouded in the dissolving masses of 
white cloud, derived increased beauty from compari- 


MOUNT ELBUKZ. 


183 


sons with the bold and black forms of the lower 
mountains nearer the plains, whose rude and tower¬ 
ing tops and almost perpendicular sides sublimely 
carry the astonished eye along the awful picture ; 
creating those feelings of terrific admiration to which 
words can give no name. 

After a ride of two versts,* we reached the key 
of the celebrated pass into Greorgia, where I rejoined 
my companions. 

There is a tradition here that, during the subsid¬ 
ing of the Deluge, the ark of Noah, while floating 
over these mountains in the direction of Ararat, its 
place of final rest, smote the head of Elborus with 
its keel, and the cleft it made in the mountain has 
remained ever since. To give any colour of feasibi¬ 
lity to the legend it had better have represented that 
the ark struck off the top of the one mountain in its 
passage to the other ; for, otherwise, Elborus, tower 
ing as it is, being at present much lower than Ara¬ 
rat, it could not have been touched at all by the 
sacred vessel floating towards so much higher a re¬ 
gion. But this oral tradition of some junction having 
taken place between Elborus and the earliest person¬ 
ages of Holy Writ, is not the only honour of the kind 
attached to the history of this celebrated mountain. 
Heathen tradition, and classical writers affirm that 
Elborus was the huge and savage rock of the Cau¬ 
casus to which Prometheus was bound. And who 
but /Eschylus has drawn its picture ? In his pages 
alone we find the magnitude, sublimity, and terrors 
* Two English miles comprise about three versts Russian. 


184 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


of that “stony girdle of the world,” that quarry of 
the globe, whence all its other mountains may seem 
to have been chiselled; such are its wonderful 
abysses, its vast and cavern ed sides and summits of 
every form and altitude mingling with the clouds. 
There is still a tradition amongst the natives who 
reside in the valleys of Elborus that the bones of an 
enormous giant, exposed there by divine wrath, are 
yet to be seen on its smaller summit. Indeed the 
story is so much a matter of firm belief with the rude 
tribes in that quarter of the Caucasus that people 
are to be found amongst them who will swear they 
have seen these huge remains. 

Sir E. K. Porter, 
Travels in Georgia, Persia, dec. 


185 


XVI. 

THE TAURUS MOUNTAINS OF CILICIA 
(BULGHAR-DAGH) 

BY elis^:e rcleus. 

The appearance of the Bulghar-Dagli differs sin¬ 
gularly according to the seasons. In autumn, a 
season unfortunately chosen by the greatest number 
of travellers, Nature has already lived its rapid and 
•fugitive life, and burnt up by the heat, it is preparing 
for the long sleep of winter. The fields are yellow 
like straw, and only narrow lines of verdure are 
visible along the banks of the rivers; even the hills 
which rise above the narrow plain seem to hide 
their shrubs under an immense grey veil. Beyond 
extends, it is true, on the sides of the mountains, 
the green zone of the conifers; but the high peaks 
are covered with dried-up pasture; all vegetation 
has faded, even to the herbs watered by the snows. 
It might be supposed that a fire had passed over 
this chain of mountains whose only beauty consists 


186 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


in the boldness and severity of its forms. But 
the traveller who looks on Biilghar-Dagh in the joy¬ 
ful season of spring, or even in the beginning of 
summer, will have no Arabia Petrea before his 
eyes ; he will behold a marvellous paradise of fresh¬ 
ness and beauty exposed in all its splendour to a 
southern sun. A plain, which is narrow on the 
west, but rather wide in the direction of Tarsus, 
extends to the base of the mountain heights, and is 
covered with luxuriant vegetation interrupted here 
and there by many cultivated fields which appear 
almost like a chess-board. Beyond rise tlie first 
hills which set off the verdure of the plain by their 
chalky sides ; but whose summits are also crowned 
by clumps of trees. Higher up the spurs of the 
mountains stretch out their promontories, which are 
remarkable for their red ochre notches, and cut up by 
steep fissures. The slopes which flank these spurs 
are clothed with vast forests of cedars, firs, and ju¬ 
nipers. A line, often indistinct to the naked eye, 
but which the telescope reveals in all its clearness, 
separates this zone of forests from the pastures of 
emerald green which stretch into all the valleys 
their fresh verdure dotted with patches of dazzling 
snow. Higher still rise in towers the peaks of 
Bulghar-Dagh, like gigantic black crystals separated 
one from the other by plates of silver. The entire 
chain forms, as it were, an immense cone, whose 
base is bathed by a sea of blue, and whose summit 
loses itself in an atmosphere no less azure than the 
streams. 



\ |\ 


I 111- I \l Rl'S 














































































































« 


t 


» 


* 










A 








THE TAURUS MOUNTAINS OF CILICIA. 


187 


Kotschy, who had ascended to the highest 
peak of Bulgliar-Dagh in 1836, in company with 
Kussegger, wished to do so again in 1856. Full of 
admiration of this proud mountain, Eussegger had 
given it the name of Allah-Tepessi, or mountain of 
Grod; but the real name under which it is known 
in the country is Metdesis. It may be reached 
from Gullek, by the valley which stretches out to 
the west of the village; ^d in no part of Syria or 
of Anatolia, not even on the slopes of Lebanon, are 
cedars to be found so fine as those which cover the 
slopes of this valley even to a height of more than 
6000 feet. Many thousand of these beautiful cedars 
grow in splendid groups above tlie sea of pines, firs, 
and junipers. But, unhappily, in spite of the posi¬ 
tive prohibitions of the Pacha, the shepherds have 
a habit of firing the brambles of the high moun¬ 
tains, and often these fires spread even as far as 
the forests. During the night these conflagrations 
resemble a flaming flood rolling its waves along the 
slopes ; and by day they veil the mountain in their 
sombre smoke; so that soon nothing is to be seen but 
blackened trunks where there once stood splendid 
groves. 

Above the zone of the cedars, one enters into 
that of the brambles, which takes the place of what 
in Europe would be pasture land. In the Cilician 
Taurus, except by the banks of its streams, one 
seldom sees grassy slopes ; even to the foot of barren 
rocks and wastes of snow, grow ligneous plants, 
and bushes with foliage of a fine green. At a height 


188 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


where on our mountains there extends a uniformly 
grey pasture land, tufts of brilliantly-coloured flowers 
adorn the soil, introducing thus into these regions 
a variety and a brightness of which our Alps can 
giv'e us no idea. 

The ascent of the Metdesis resembles that of 
most other snowy mountains; one has to walk along 
the edge of precipices, to pass through couloirs, 
which are frightful in appearance, assisting oneself 
with one’s hands in the steepest parts, and trying 
the depth of the snow before placing the feet upon 
it. Wien a man goes straight up as Kussegger did 
in 1836, he finds the ascent very difficult; but much 
of the fatigue may be avoided by making a detour 
towards the east, and climbing first to the point 
of the Tchubanhuju, or the Shepherd’s Call, a 
mountain so named because the young shepherds, 
as soon as they have arrived at the summit, never 
fail to shout their triumph to their companions who 
are below in charge of the flocks. On the western 
side of the Tchubanhuju, may be remarked in the 
midst of a field of snow, a vast extent of ice which 
might make one believe in the existence of a glacier 
similar to those of the Alps; but these transparent 
and bluish masses are due to the action of a con¬ 
siderable stream, which, during cold nights, melts 
the snows near it; then afterwards this melted snow 
turns into ice. 

The peak of the Metdesis, which is 10,800 feet 
high, commands a very extensive liorizon, “ a pano¬ 
rama of divine beauty,” said Russegger. In the 


THE TAURUS MOUNTAINS OF CILICIA. 


189 


first place, all the great peaks of the chain are 
visible; each of them being more than 10,400 feet 
high, covered with snow on the side exposed to the 
north wind, and showing their sombre-coloured 
rocks on the slopes which are turned towards the 
south. On the north side the inclination of the 
Metdesis is suddenly interrupted by a frightful pre¬ 
cipice ; a field of eternal snow dotted with enormous 
stones, fills up a high valley. Spots of quiet colour 
scattered about like islands tell of gardens and 
orchards; and on the north side, in one place, they 
form a sort of archipelago. This is where the in¬ 
dustrious population of Orte-Booi; live. Beyond 
this, quite on the horizon, like distant mirrors, 
the waters of two great lakes, and the snows of 
Erdchich, the highest point of Asia Minor, glitter 
in the sun. Beyond all this region rise other moun¬ 
tains as numberless as the waves of the sea; while 
on the south inferior chains are to be seen, as well 
as the plain of Tarsus, and the blue INIediterranean. 
By crossing the chain of mountains through one 
of the two passes which lead over to the northern side, 
Geje^k-Deppe and the pass of Kochan, and following 
a road which has been daringly cut over the edge of 
the precipices, the argentiferous lead-mines of Bulg- 
har Maaden will be reached. These mines have 
been worked since 1842 by a hundred industrious 
Greeks. From this charming modern village, you 
descend into the paradise-like valley of Al-Chodcha, 
with its innumerable orchards. It is in this valley, 
according to the natives, that the marvellous plant 


190 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


grows whose flowers shine like a number of sparks 
during the night. The sheep and cattle which 
browse on this fairy plant chew gold, and soon their 
teeth are covered with thin sheets of the precious 
metal. Those travellers who are happy enough to 
meet with this flower of light gather it with care, 
and almost immediately afterwards they see at their 
feet another plant, whose roots are attached to ingots 
of gold. “ May you find the flower of light! ” the 
Persians say to travellers. M. Kotschy, however, 
great botanist as he is, has not been able in all his 
reseai’ches to discover in the Bulghar-Dagh this 
plant with its luminous flowers. 

Elis^e Reclus. Faysages du Taurus cili- 
cien. Revue Germanique. 


MOUNT TAURUS. BY W. G. BROWNE, 1802. 

The route from Kara-Bignar to Erakli employed 
us ^about twelve hours ; the road is over a sandy 
plain, which is little cultivated. Erakli, however, 
is agreeably situated in the midst of gardens full of 
fruit and forest-trees. About forty minutes from 
the city begins the ascent of the mountainous ridge, 
a continuation of Taurus. It employed us nearly 
five hours to reach the summit. The Kaludjis, not 
knowing the road, were obliged to take guides 
from Erakli to conduct them. A little further we 


MOUNT TAURUS. 


191 


came to a small village, near which I saw, perhaps, 
an acre or two of cultivated land. The Turkmans, 
with their flocks, dwelling under tents, inhabit this 
almost inaccessible region. A series of stupendous 
bare rocks succeeds to the first summit. Tlie air is 
cool and salubrious, even in the hottest season; and 
pellucid springs give spirit and animation to the 
scene. The summit of this primitive ridge is com¬ 
posed of a large grained marble; other calcareous 
substances recline on its ample sides, or are up- 
heaved by its frequent asperities. They are all of 
them massy rocks, without any appearance of strata. 
A number of very ancient cedars, whose stunted 
growth and fantastic branches cast a gloomy shade, 
diversifying the rugged sides of the mountain. 

In my visit to the Turkman tents, I remarked a 
strong contrast between their habits and those of 
the Bedouin Arabs. With the latter, the rights of 
hospitality are inviolable; and while the host pos¬ 
sesses a cake of bread, he feels it a duty to furnish 
half of it to his guest; the Turkman offers nothing 
spontaneously, and if he furnish a little milk or 
butter, it is at an exorbitant price. With him it is 
a matter of calculation whether the compendious 
profit of a single act of plunder, or the more ignoble 
system of receiving presents from the caravans for 
their secure passage, be most advantageous. The 
Arab values himself on the hash-we-nash, that is, 
his ancient pedigree; the Turk on his personal 
prowess. With the former civility requires that 



192 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


salutations be protracted to satiety; the latter 
scarcely replies to a salam aleikiim. 

The muleteers, who had preferred this devious 
path to the highroad to avoid the Dellis, were now 
alarmed at the frequent visits of the Turkmans. 
They described me to them as an officer of Chappan 
Oglon’s retinue, employed to communicate with the 
English fleet on the coast, an explanation which ap¬ 
peared to satisfy them; and fortunately I was able 
to support that character. It is to be observed that 
Chappan Oglon has a large military force at his 
disposal, and administers justice with a rod of iron. 
His vengeance pursues on eagle’s wings the slightest 
transgression against his authority. Our precau¬ 
tions at night were redoubled; and I divided the 
time into two watches, which I ordered my ser¬ 
vant to share with me, but the disposition to sleep 
having speedily got the better of his vigilance, 
a pipe, although carefully placed under the carpet 
on which I slept, was stolen unperceived before 
morning. 

The dress of the Turkmans consists of a large 
striped and fringed turban, fastened in a manner 
peculiar to ‘themselves; or sometimes of a simple 
high-crowned cap of white felt. A vest, usually 
white, is thrown over the shirt; the Agas superadd 
one of cloth; and in general, and in proportion to 
their rank and wealth, they approximate to the 
dress of the capital. But the common people wear 
a short jacket of various colours. A cincture is 


MOUNT TAURUS. 


193 


indispensably required, in which are fixed an 
enormous yatagar and pistol. 

Many of them wear half boots, red or yellow, 

I laced to the leg; the dress of the women is a 
j coloured vest, and a piece of white cotton cloth on 
I the head, covering part of the face. They are mas- 
j culine and active, performing all the harder kinds 
: of labour required by the family. Their features 
are good, but not pleasing. The men are gener¬ 
ally muscular, and well proportioned; tall, straight, 
and active. Their teeth are white and regular ; 
their eyes are often extremely piercing; and there 
is an air of uncommon boldness in their counten¬ 
ances and mode of address. Their complexions are 
clear, but sunburnt. In a word, they have every¬ 
thin"’ that denotes exhaustless health and vigour of 

O O 

body. A great resemblance is visible between them 
and the populace of Constantinople; but the latter 
appear effeminate by the comparison. Every 
action and every motion of the Turkman is marked 
by dignity and grace. Their language is clear and 
sonorous, but less soft than that of the capital; ex¬ 
pressing, as may be conceived, no abstract ideas, 
for which the Turkish is indebted to the Arabic 
alone; but, fitted to paint the stronger passions, 
and to express in the most forcible manner and la¬ 
conic terms, the mandates of authority. Their 
riches consist of cattle, horses, arms, and various 
habiliments. How lamentable to think that with 
persons so interesting, and a character so energetic, 
they unite such confirmed habits of idleness, violence, 

o 


194 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


and treachery. From the rising of the sun till his 
disappearance the males are employed only in 
smoking, conversing, inspecting their cattle, or visit¬ 
ing their acquaintance. They watch at night for 
the purpose of plunder, which, among them, is 
honourable in proportion to the ingenuity of the 
contrivance or the audacity of the execution. Their 
families are generally small, and there is reason 
to think that their number is not increasing. 

The destructive locust has not spared even the 
solitary domain of these wandering tribes. An in¬ 
finity of junipers and cedars overspread the first 
descent of the mountain, which is long and steep, 
and covered with loose stones. Those near the 
summit are granite and hornblende; lower down, 
limestone is the prevailing substance. The dwarf 
elder, whose odour is very agreeable, skirts the moun¬ 
tain to a certain height. The route from Erakli to 
Tarsus occupied in the whole about twenty-nine 
hours. On the third day we rode for about a mile 
through the bed of a torrent, now dry, but occa¬ 
sionally flowing between lofty and tremendous 
rocks. We soon after ascended another range in¬ 
ferior in height to the first; having crossed it we 
continued our journey through a beautifully wooded 
valley in which there are a great variety of orna¬ 
mental trees and shrubs. On one side is a precipice 
descending to the dry bed of a torrent, and on both, 
lofty and almost perpendicular rocks shaded with 
the most luxuriant verdure. A few spots might be 
remarked which were capable of cultivation; but 


MOUNT TAURUS. 


195 


the valley contained many fragments of granite, 
micaceous schistus and limestone. 

From the last resting-place another descent 
ensued, which at length brought us into an exten¬ 
sive plain, shortly afterwards to Tarsus, distant about 
three hours from the sea. 


W. Gr. Browne, 1802. 
From Waljpole's Turkey, 


196 


XVIL 

MOUNT LEBANON. 

ASCENT BY LORD LINDSAY IN 1837 . 

Starting from Deir el Akhmar, at a quarter past 
four in the morning, and ascending through woods 
of prickly oak and vselonidi, we reached in three 
hours the ruined village Ainnet, from which begin 
the steep ridges of Lebanon. All the trees ceased 
now, except a species of dwarf cedar, emitting a 
delicious fragrance, which replaced them, and con¬ 
tinued, though diminishing in number, almost to 
the summit. The rocky slope of the mountain is 
covered witli yellow, white, red, and pink flowers, 
affording delicious food to the bees of Lebanon: 
their honey is excellent. At eight we came in 
sight of Lake Leman of the East, or Yemouni, as 
every one pronounced it, lying to the south, em¬ 
bosomed between the upper and lower ridges. An 
hour afterwards, we reached an immense wreath of 
snow, lying on the breast of the mountain, just below 



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MOUNT LEBANON. 


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that summit; and from that summit, five minutes 
afterwards, what a prospect opened before us ! Two 
vast^'ridges of Lebanon, curving westwards from the 
central spot where we stood, like the horns of a bent 
bow or the wings of a theatre, run down towards the 
sea, breaking in their descent into a hundred minor 
hills, between which, unseen, unheard, and through 
as deep, and dark, and jagged a chasm as ever 
yawned, the Kadisha, or Sacred Kiver of Lebanon, 
rushes down to the Mediterranean, the blue and 
boundless Mediterranean, which, far on the west 
horizon, meets and mingles with the sky. Our eyes 
coming home again, after roving over this noble 
view, we had leisure to observe a small group of 
trees, not larger, apparently, than a clump in an 
English park at the very foot of the northern 
wing or horn of this grand natural theatre:—these 
were the far-famed cedars. We were an hour and 
twenty minutes in reaching them, the descent being 
very precipitous and difficult. As we entered the 
grove, the air was quite perfumed with their odour, 
‘‘ the smell of Lebanon ” so celebrated by the pen of 
inspiration. 

We halted under one of the largest trees, in 
scribed with De La Borde’s name on one side, and 
De La Marline’s on the other. But do not think 
that we were sacrilegious enough to wound these 
glorious trees ; there are few English names com¬ 
paratively, I am happy to say,— I would as soon cut 
my name on the wall of a church. 

Several generations of cedars, all growing pro mis- 


198 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


cuously together, compose this beautiful grove. The 
younger are very numerous; the second-rate would 
form a noble wood of themselves, were even the patri¬ 
archal dynasty quite extinct,—one of them, by no 
means the largest, measures nineteen feet and a quarter 
in circumference, and, in repeated instances, two, 
three, and four large trunks spring from a single 
root, but they have all a fresher appearance than 
the patriarchs, and straighter stems,— straight as 
young palm-trees. Of the giants, there are seven 
standing very near each other, all on the same hill; 
three more, a little further on, nearly in a line with 
them, and, in a second walk of discovery, after my 
companions had laid down to rest, I had the pleasure 
of detecting two others low down on the northern 
edge of the grove, twelve therefore in all, of which 
the ninth from the south is the smallest, but even 
that bears tokens of antiquity coeval with its 
brethren. 

The stately bearing and graceful repose of the 
young cedars contrast singularly with the wild and 
frantic attitude of the old ones, flinging abroad their 
knotted and muscular limbs like so many Laocoons, 
while others, broken off, lie rotting at their feet; but 
life is strong in them all, they look as if they had been 
struggling for existence with evil spirits, and God 
had interposed and forbidden the war, tljat the trees 
He had planted might remain living witnesses to 
faithless men of that ancient Glory of Lebanon,”— 
Lebanon, the emblem of the righteous,—which de¬ 
parted from her when Israel rejected Christ; her 


MOUNT LEBANON. 


199 


vines drooping, her trees few, that a child may 
number them, she stands blighted, a type of tlie 
unbeliever! And blighted she must remain till 
her second spring, the day of renovation from the 
presence of the Lord, when, at the voice of God, 
Israel shall spring anew to life, and the cedar and 
the vine, the olive of Carmel and the rose of Sharon, 
emblems of the moral graces of God, reflected in 
His people, shall revive in the wilderness, to beautify 
the place of His sanctuary and to make the place of 
His feet glorious, to swell the chorus of Universal 
Nature to the praise of the living God. 

We had intended proceeding that evening to 
Psherre, but no, we could not resolve to leave those 
glorious trees so soon, the loveliest, the noblest, the 
holiest, in the wide world. The tent was pitched, 
and we spent the rest of the day under their 
“ shadowy shroud.” Oh, what a church that grove 
is I Never did I think Solomon’s Song so beautiful, 
and that most noble chapter of Ezekiel, the thirty- 
first, I had read it on the heights of Syene, Egypt 
on my right hand, and Etliiopia on my left, with 
many other denunciations (how awfully fulfilled !) 
of desolations against Pathros, and judgments upon 
No,—but this was the place to enjoy it, lying under 
one of those vast trees, looking up every now and 
then into its thick boughs, the little birds warbling, 
and a perpetual hum of insect life pervading the air 
with its drowsy melody. Eden is close by,—these 
are “ the trees of Eden,” the choicest and best of 
Lebanon,” these are the trees (there can be none 


200 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


nobler) which Solomon spoke of, “ from the cedar of 
Lebanon to the hyssop on the wall,” the object of 
repeated allusion and comparison throughout the 
Bible,—the emblem of the righteous in David’s 
Sabbath hymn, and, honour upon honour, the like¬ 
ness of the countenance of the Son of Grod in the 
inspired Canticles of Solomon. 

Our encampment was very picturesque that 
night, the fire throwing a strong light on the cedar 
that o’ercanopied us; those enormous arms, of 
ghastly whiteness, seemed almost alive and about to 
grasp and catch us up into the thick darkness they 
issued from. 

The direct road from the cedars to the village 
of Eden is little more than two hours ; we were de¬ 
sirous, however, of seeing the famous Convent of 
Canubin (or Anubin, as they pronounced it, always 
dropping the initial C), and accordingly, on arriving 
at Psherre, after an hour and twenty minutes’ ride, 
we sent on the baggage direct under Allwyn’s care, 
who was not well enough to accompany us. 

The descent to Psherre (the Beshirai of the 
maps) was very precipitous, but nothing to what 
awaited us beyond it; the village lies in a lovely 
valley, all verdant with vines and fruit-trees, and 
musical with cascades; and the breezes of Lebanon, 
—who that has ever quaffed can forget them ? To 
the east, on the slope of the valley, stands the Con¬ 
vent of Mar Serkis, almost concealed among thick 
groves, with a very remarkable pointed rock arising 
over it. Our route lay westwards, along the edge 


MOUNT LEBANON. 


201 


of the ravine broken every now and then by deep 
gullies, descending from the northern Lebanon, each 
with its torrent dashing down from the mountains, 
and sometimes forming beautiful cascades over the 
rocks, light clouds of spray hovering over their de¬ 
scent. We passed the village Hatsheit at nine, and 
that of Belansi at ten, both situated on the edge of 
the chasm ; looking eastwards from this point to¬ 
wards its head, we saw the river Kadisha, like a 
silver thread descending from Lebanon. The whole 
scene bore that strange and shadowy resemblance to 
the wonderful landscape delineated in “ Kubla 
Khan,” that one often feels in actual life, when the 
whole scene around you appears to be re-enacting 
after a long interval, your friends seated in the same 
juxtaposition, the subject of conversation the same, 
and shifting with the same dream-like ease,” that 
you remember at some remote indefinite period of 
pre-existence; you always know what will come 
next, and sit spell-bound as it were in a sort of 
calm expectancy. One would almost have thought 
Coleridge had been here in some such vision, or at 
least that some such description of the valley had 
been unconsciously lingering on his memory,— the 
general resemblance between the scene he has 
painted and that before us is so striking. I dare 
not insist on the coincidence of there being “ a 
sacred river ” in both landscapes, in proof of their 
identity, ‘‘ there is a river in Macedon, and there is 
a river at Monmouth ; it is called the Wye at Mon¬ 
mouth ; it is out of my province what is the name of 


202 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


the other river, but it is all one, and so like as my 
fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmon in 
both! ” 

Beyond Belansi we began the descent to Canubin 
by a very difficult path, occasionally hewn into rude 
steps. This magnificent ravine (I speak of it gene¬ 
rally, as we viewed it from different points) is of 
immense depth, broken into vast hollows, overhung 
with trees, chiefly prickly oaks, and shooting into 
pinnacles, between which the mountain torrents rush 
down on all sides, some of them forming beautiful 
cascades, many hundred feet in height. At Canubin, 
however, the voice even of the Kadisha is scarcely 
heard ; a profound silence reigns, all is grandeur, but 
grandeur in repose,—the choicest place in the world 
for dreaming away one’s life in monastic inactivity. 
The convent hangs about two-thirds down the pre¬ 
cipice, partly built up against, partly excavated in 
the rocks; it looks as if held by cramping irons in 
its present position, so deep is the abyss below, so 
menacing the rocks that overhang it. 

Here, in winter only, resides the Batrah, or 
Patriarch, of the Maronites: we had expected to see 
him, but were disappointed to hear that he had 
flown off with all the brethren to Adiman, their sum¬ 
mer residence on the top of the mountain opposite. 

Several leaves of the Syriac Bible alighted at 
our feet as we rode up to the gate, and a lay-Maron- 
ite, who made his appearance at the window above 
it, seemed quite indifferent to their fate. He in¬ 
formed us, in addition to the unwelcome news of 


MOUNT LEBANON. 


203 


the Batrah’s absence, that there was absolutely no¬ 
thing in the convent for man or beast. This did not 
at all coincide with our plans, which were to rest 
there a few hours, feed our horses and ourselves, 
and then proceed in the afternoon to Eden ; we, 
therefore, the gate being open, took possession of 
the monastery, searched and discovered corn in 
abundance, fed our horses, established ourselves in 
the pleasantest place we could find, and then tried 
to persuade the Maronite that food for man was 
also producible, assuring him, as we did from the 
first, that we had feloush enough to pay for it. 
All persuasion was in vain till a sort of major-domo 
arrived, to whom intelligence had been sent of the 
capture of the convent; from that moment all was 
cordial hospitality,—he unlocked a small room, fur¬ 
nished with mats, produced some of the sweet red 
wine of Lebanon, and, by degrees, the most sump¬ 
tuous dejeuner d la fourchette we had seen for 
many a day made its appearance,—salad, cheese, 
grapes, honey, and dibs, a syrup expressed from 
grapes, and delicious Arab bread,—a meal for 
princes! 

During the glow of victory, for we virtually 
resigned our conquest the moment that hospitable 
thoughts were evinced by the rightful proprietors, 
we explored the convent as thoroughly as a lingering 
respect for bolts and bars permitted. There is no¬ 
thing worth seeing except the church, which is a 
large and beautiful grotto cut lengthways in the 
rock that overhangs the monastery. The portraits 


204 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


of the patriarchs mentioned by old travellers, no 
longer line its walls, but there are several paintings 
of a character superior to that one would expect to 
see in such an out-of-the-way place,— daubs, but 
done in Italy; the best of them was an assumption 
of the Virgin over the altar. In, and on a press 
in the church, lay many books and manuscripts, the 
former chiefly printed at Eome by the Propaganda, 
some of the latter most beautifully written,—all in 
Arabic, I suppose, but in the Syriac character. The 
Bible to which the leaves that flew out of the win¬ 
dow with such empressement to welcome us be¬ 
longed, lay in a small apartment at the end of a 
long gallery built up against the rock, and over¬ 
looking the gate. 

After a hearty meal and comfortable siesta we 
remounted, and with the major-domo as guide, a 
merry and good-humoured fellow, re-ascended the 
gorge we had come down by, but up its western 
side. We presently passed a small chapel cut in 
the rock; the whole valley, indeed, is full of the 
excavated dwellings of ancient hermits. The scenery 
was still more beautiful at this evening hour, the 
southern declivity all shadow, except the salient 
points of rock. 

After about an hour’s ascent we came in sight 
of the vale of Eden, with the village on the 
north-west side of it, so that we had to wind round 
the head of the valley to reach it,—there is no 
cutting across country in Mount Lebanon, and who 
would wish to do so, and abridge his enjoyment ? 


MOUNT LEBANON. 


205 


Above, below, around you, wherever you cast your 
eyes, man and nature vie with each other in beauti¬ 
fying and enriching the landscape. Man affording 
Nature a field to display her bounty upon, by ter¬ 
racing the hills to their very summits, that not a 
particle of their soil may be lost,—Nature in reward¬ 
ing his toil by the richest luxuriance, pouring grain 
into his lap, and wine into his cup, without measure. 
The slopes, too, of the valleys one mass of verdure, 
are yet more productive than the hills, thanks “ to 
the springs of Lebanon ” that come gushing down 
so fresh and cool and melodious in every direction, 
—vines twine around and hang in garlands from 
every tree; mulberries are cultivated in immense 
quantities, with houses for the silkworms, of dry 
branches or matting, bound with reeds, built be¬ 
tween the trees; they never pluck off the leaves, 
but cut whole boughs off for the silk-worms, the 
trees, however, are little injured in appearance, as 
many boughs as are seen on a young fig-tree being 
left untouched on each. The fig-trees are beautiful, 
the apricots delicious, and as common as apples in 
England. Walnut-trees of majestic growth and 
beautiful produce, flourish beside the deep torrent- 
beds, along with the weeping willow and Lombardy 
poplar, the only unfruitful trees in this garden of 
Eden; for all I have said, though descriptive gene¬ 
rally of the valleys of this part of Lebanon, applies 
strictly to that we have just descended to from Canu- 
bin. And then the cordial greeting of the country 
people, poor, but all seemingly happy and contented. 


206 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


and as like each other in features as brothers and 
sisters,—a smUe on every woman’s countenance, all 
of them unveiled, and some very pretty, the steeples 
of the village churches peeping out through the 
trees, and the bells answering each other across the 
ravines ev^ery morning and evening, were moral 
charms that doubled the attractions of the scenery ; 
we felt ourselves in a Christian country and almost 
among brethren. 

Eden is built on a lofty ridge, extremely pre¬ 
cipitous, its sides supported by terraces, wherever 
it has been possible to introduce them, planted with 
vines, mulberries, and corn. A considerable tor¬ 
rent augmented in its course by minor rills, flowing 
in cascades from the hills, rushes down a deep ra¬ 
vine towards the south. We reached the village 
after a quarter-of-an-hour’s ascent from the bridge, 
and found our friend Allwyn encamped near a cas¬ 
cade in a magnificent grove of walnut-trees. Pell 
and I, pursuant to his advice, started off immediately 
on foot for the brow of a hill about twenty minutes 
distant, to catch the sunset view of the western side 
of Lebanon ; it was superb ! Tripoli was concealed 
by the rising ground, but the headland, the part 
where the merchants reside, the vessels, the towers, 
remnants of the old fortifications of the knightly 
Berengers, were clearly visible, and the seaward 
course of Kadisha, distinguishable at intervals by 
its snow-white foam. More to the south, we saw 
the bold headland near Batroun, the mountain that 


MONT LEBANON. 


207 


bid Djibail, &c., &c., and, beyond all the Mediter¬ 
ranean. 

A crowd of villagers congregated under the 
trees in front of our tent that night: children were 
romping about, some one was modulating the shep¬ 
herd’s reed not unmelodiously, it was a more cheer¬ 
ful scene than I ever witnessed in the lowlands of 
Syria or Palestine, where the merry-hearted sigh 
and the mirth of the tabret has almost ceased in 
the land. * * * 

We returned to Psherre, by the direct route, the 
following afternoon, with the intention of proceed¬ 
ing to Zachli, by Akoura and Afka, along the heights 
of Lebanon and thence to Damascus. Burckhardt 
is the only traveller I know of who has taken this 
route; and a most sublime and beautiful one it is, 
so far as Akoura and Afka, beyond which I cannot 
speak of it, the guide having led us, either ignor¬ 
antly or knavishly, into another road. 

Lord Lindsay, 

Letters on Egypt, Edom, and the Holy Land, 


208 


XVIII. 

MOUNT AEAEAT. 

BY SIR ROBT. KER PORTER, NOV. 1817. 

On leaving our halting-place, a fuller view of the 
great plain of Ararat gradually expanded before us, 
and the mountain itself began to tower in all its 
majesty to the very canopy of heaven. It bore 
south-east from the line of our caravansary. We 
now took a descending position, due east over a 
stony and difficult road, which carried us, for more 
than ten versts, through several close and rocky 
defiles, and over as many frozen streams, till we 
reached a small Mohametan village on the side of 
the Mossduan hills. We halted there for the night, 
and, for the first time, I slept under the roof of a 
Mussulman. My goodly escort had already made 
themselves acquainted with the substance of the 
honest people ; for, in our way to the village, some 
of them spied a flock of sheep with their shepherd, 
at a little distance on the plain, and starling away 


MOUNT ARARAT. 


209 


scoured off immediately towards them. Not guess¬ 
ing their intentions, I supposed they were aware of 
the approach of some hostile band, and were charg¬ 
ing to meet them. My surprise, therefore, was 
rather excited when I saw them plunge into the mass 
of the flock, the shepherd run for his life, and in a 
few minutes the troop return with their spoil,—two 
or three sheep with their throats cut, which were 
soon skinned, dressed, and eaten. This was nothing 
more, in their opinion, than a mere exercise of 
their horses; a chappow (or fray), as much their 
right as the air they breathe, and as little to be 
complained against by the owner of the sheep as the 
gathering of a few turnips in a neighbour’s field 
might be by some of us, though it certainly was 
something new to an Englishman of the nineteenth 
century to find himself thus at the head of a band 
with such habits. 

On the morning of the 17 th of Nov. (O.S.) we 
left our hospitable ^lussulmans ; for whether they 
were so inclined or overawed by the fierce looks 
and glittering arms of my attendants, I will not 
pretend to say, but I had no reason to complain 
of their want of civility. We set forth over a road 
as hard as that of the day before, in a direction 
south-east, and gradually descending from a great 
height through a very extended sloping country, 
towards the immense plain of Ararat. In our way 
we passed the relics of a considerable town called 
Talish. A little further we saw the ruins of what 
had been a fine caravansary on the side of a moun- 

p 



210 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


tain stream, and from amidst the mouldering 
walls, we observed a few half-starved Avretches creep¬ 
ing to the air, as if that were their only aliment. 
Indeed, sterility seemed to have been the curse of 
this immediate spot. Not a trace of verdure was 



Mount Ararat. 


discoverable on the ground; all parts were covered 
with volcanic stones, or rather masses of cinders, as 
if thrown from an iron forge,—black, heavy, and 
honey-combed. Lower down, upon this long de- 




MOUNT ARARAT. 


211 


clivity, rises a mound of earth and rock, which in 
any neighbourhood but that of Ararat, would be 
called a mountain. Here it appears scarcely a hill. 
Its form and substance are evidently those of an 
extinguished volcano ; but in what age it has been 
at work, we have not means to guess; no authors 
of established verity, ancient or modern, having 
said one word of any known volcanic eruption in 
the region of Ararat. Besides the cinders above 
mentioned, I observed in several places during our 
downward march large portions of rock, of a soft 
red stone, bearing likewise the marks of calcina¬ 
tion. 

As the vale opened beneath us in our descent 
my whole attention became absorbed in the \dew 
before me. A vast plain, peopled with countless 
villages, the towers and spires of the churches of Eitch 
mai-adzan, arising from amidst them, the glittering 
waters of the Araxes, flowing through the fresh green 
of the vale ; and the subordinate range of mountains 
skirting the base of the awful monument of the 
antediluvian world. It seemed to stand a stupen¬ 
dous link in the history of man, uniting the two 
races of men, before and after the flood. But it 
was not until we arrived upon the flat plain that I 
beheld Ararat in all its amplitude of grandeur. 
From the spot on which I stood it appeared as if 
tlie largest mountains of the world had been piled 
upon each other to form this one sublime immensity 
of earth, and rock, and snow. The icy peaks of its 
double heads rose majestically into the clear and 


212 


MOUNTAIN ADVENT UEES. 


cloudless heaven ; the sun blazed bright upon them 
and the reflection sent forth a dazzling radiance 
equal to other suns. This point of the view united 
the utmost grandeur of plain and height. But the 
feelings I experienced while looking on the moun¬ 
tain are hardly to be described. My eye, not able 
to rest for any length of time upon the blinding 
glory of its summits, wandered down the apparently 
interminable sides, till I could no longer trace their 
vast lines in the mists of the horizon ; when an 
irrepressible impulse, immediately carrying my eye 
upwards again, refixed my gaze upon the awful glare 
of Ararat; and this bewildered sensibility of sight 
being answered by a similar feeling in the mind, for 
some moments I was lost in a strange suspension of 
the powers of thought. 

Agridagh is the name given to this sublime 
mountain by the Turks; and the Armenians call it 
Malis; but all unite in revering it as the haven of 
the great ship which preserved the father of man¬ 
kind from the waters of the deluge. The height of 
Ararat has never yet been measured with any satis¬ 
factory degree of accuracy; though Capt. Monteith, 
of the Madras Engineers, has gone nearer to the 
mark, perhaps, than any other traveller. . . These 
inaccessible summits have never been trodden by the 
foot of man since the days of Noah, if even then ; 
for my idea is, that the ark rested in the space be¬ 
tween these heads, and not on the top of either. 
Various attempts have been made, in different ages 
to ascend these tremendous mountain-pyramids, but 


MOUNT ARARAT. 


213 


ill vain. Their form, snows, and glaciers, are in¬ 
surmountable obstacles, the distance being so great, 
from the commencement of the icy region to the 
highest points, cold alone would be the destruction 
of any person who should have the hardihood to 
persevere. 

On viewing Mount Ararat from the northern side 
of the plain its two heads are separated by a wide 
cleft, or rather glen, in the body of the mountain. 
The rocky side of the greater head runs almost per¬ 
pendicularly down to the north-east, while the lesser 
head rises from the sloping bosom of the cleft in a 
perfectly conical shape. Both heads are covered 
with snow. The form of the greater is similar to 
the lesser, only broader and rounder at the top, and 
shows to the north-west a broken and abrupt front, 
opening, about half-way down, into a stupendous 
chasm, deep, rocky, and peculiarly black. At that 
part of the mountain, the hollow of the chasm re¬ 
ceives an interruption from the projections of minor 
mountains, which start from the sides of Ararat, like 
branches from the root of a tree, and run along in 
undulating progression till lost in the distant vapours 
of the plain. 

The dark chasm which I have mentioned as 
being on the side of the great head of the mountain, 
is supposed by some travellers to have been the 
exhausted crater of Ararat. Dr. Benizzi even 
affirms it, by stating that, in the year 1783, during 

* Nevertheless, this ascent was accomplished in 1850, by 
Col. Khodzko. 


214 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


certain days of the months of January and February, 
an eruption took place in that mountain ; and he 
suggests the probability of the burning ashes ejected 
thence at that time, reaching to the southern side of 
the Caucasus (a distance in a direct line of two hundred 
and twenty versts); and so depositing the volcanic 
productions which are found there. The reason he 
gives for this latter supposition is, that the trapp 
seen there did not originate in those mountains, 
and must, consequently, have been sent thither by 
volcanic explosions elsewhere. And that this else¬ 
where, which he concludes to be Ararat, may have 
been that mountain, I do not pretend to dispute; 
but these events must have taken place many 
centuries ago, even before history took note of the 
spot; for, since that period, we have no intimation 
whatever of any part of Ararat having been seen in 
a burning state. This part of Asia -was well known 
to the ancient historians, from being the seat of 
certain wars they describe; and it cannot be sup¬ 
posed that, had so conspicuous a mountain been 
often, or ever (witliin the knowledge of man) in a 
state of volcanic eruption, we should not have heard 
of it from Strabo, Pliny, Ptolemy, or others; but, 
on the contrary, all these writers are silent on such 
a subject with regard to Ararat; while every one 
who wrote in the vicinities of Etna or of Vesuvius 
had something to say of the thunders and molten 
fires of those mountains. That there are volcanic 
remains, to a vast extent, around Ararat, every 
person wdio visits its neighbourhood must testify; 


MOUNT ARARAT. 


215 


and, giving credit to Dr. Benigg’s assertion, that an 
explosion of the mountain had happened in his 
time, I determined to support so interesting a fact, 
with tlie evidence of every observation on my part, 
when I should reach the spot. But, on arriving at 
the monastery of Eitch-mai-adza, where my remarks 
must chiefly be made, and discoursing with the 
fathers on the idea of Ararat having been a volcano, 
I found that a register of the general appearance of 
the mountain had been regularly kept by their pre¬ 
decessors and themselves, for upwards of eight hun¬ 
dred years ; and that nothing of an eruption, or any 
thing tending to such an event, was to be found on 
any one of these notices. When I spoke of an ex¬ 
plosion of the mountain having taken place in the 
year 1783, and which had been made known to 
Europe by a traveller declaring himself to have 
been an eye-witness, they were all in surprise; and, 
besides the written documents to the contrar}^, I was 
assured by several of the holy brethren, who had 
been resident in the plain for upwards of forty years, 
that during the whole of that period they had never 
seen even a smoke from the mountain. Therefore, 
how the author in question fell into so very erro¬ 
neous a misstatement, I can form no guess. 

Sir B. K. Porter, 

Travels in Georgia, Persia, Armenia, Ac. 


216 


XIX. 

MOUNT SINAI. 

ASCENT BY DK. ROBINSON, MARCH 1838. 

The lower and easier road from Wadj-et-Taiyibeli 
to Sinai enters the Feiran from the head of Wady 
Mukatteb, and follows it up Wady-est-Sheikh, almost 
to the convent. From the point where we now 
were, this road is long and circuitous; while a 
shorter one strikes directly towards the convent, 
ascending in part by a narrow and difficult pass. 
We took the latter: and, crossing Wady-esh-Sheikh, 
proceeded on a course S.E. by S., up to the broad 
Wady, or rather sloping plain, Es-Seheb, thickly 
studded with shrubs, but without trees. Here and 
around Wady-esh-Sheikh are only low hills, lying 
between the rocky mountains behind us and the 
cliff of Sinai before us; and forming, as it were, a 
lower belt around the lofty central granite region. 
Over these walls, — low walls of porphyry or 
griinstein,— like those above described, run in 



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MOVSr SINAI. 







































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MOUNT SINAI. 


217 


rious directions, stretching ofif to a great dis- 
ance. 

We came to the top of the plain at a quarter 
before eleven o’clock, where is a sharp, but rough, 
pass, full of debris, having on the right a low, sharp 
peak called El-Orf. From this point to the base of 
the cliffs of Sinai there is a sort of belt or track of 
gravel or sand, full of low hills and ridges. 

The black and frowning mountains before us, 
the outworks, as it were, of Sinai, are here seen to 
great advantage, rising abrupt and rugged from 
their very base, eight hundred to a thousand feet in 
height; as if forbidding all approach to the sanc¬ 
tuary within. 

At half-past twelve o’clock we began gradually 
to ascend towards the foot of the pass before us, 
called by our Arabs Miikb Hawy, Windy Pass, and 
by Burckhardt Mukb-er-Rahah, from the tract 
above it. We reached the foot at a quarter past 
one o’clock, and, dismounting, commenced the slow 
and toilsome ascent along the narrow defile, about 
S. by E., between blackened shattered cliffs of 
granite, some eight hundred feet high, and not 
more than two hundred and fifty yards apart; which 
every moment threatened to send down their ruins 
on our heads. Nor is this at all times an empty 
threat; for the whole pass is filled with large stones 
and rocks, the debris of these cliffs. The bottom 
is a deep and narrow watercourse, where the 
wintry torrent sweeps down with fearful violence. 


218 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


A path has been made for camels along the shelving 
piles of rocks, partly by removing the topmost 
blocks, and sometimes by laying down large stones 
side by side, somewhat in the manner of a Swiss 
mountain road. But although I had crossed the 
most rugged passes of the Alps, and made from 
Chamounix the whole circuit of Mont Blanc, I had 
never found a path so rude and difficult as that we 
were now ascending. The camels toiled slowly and 
painfully along, stopping frequently; so that,although 
it took them two hours and a quarter to reach the 
top of the pass, yet the distance cannot be reckoned 
at more than one hour. . . . Higher up the path lies 
in the bed of the torrent, and became less steep. 
As we advanced the sand was occasionally moist, 
and on digging into it with the hand, the hole was 
soon filled with fine sweet water. We tried the expe¬ 
riment in several places. Here, too, were several small 
palm-trees, and a few tufts of grass, the first we had 
seen since leaving the borders of the Nile. Burck- 
hardt mentions a spring, called Kaneitan, in this 
part of the pass; but it was now dry, at least we 
neither saw nor heard of any. In the pass we found 
upon the rocks two Sinaitic inscriptions, one of them 
having over it a cross of the same date. 

It was half-past three o’clock when we reached 
the top, from which the convent was said to be an 
hour distant, but we found it two hours, as did also 
Burckhardt. Descending a little into a small Wady, 
which has its head here, and runs off through a cleft 


MOUNT SINAI. 


219 


in tlie western mountains, apparently to Wady 
Rudhwah, we soon began to ascend again gradually 
on a course S.E. by S., passing by a small spring of 
good water, beyond which the valley opens by 
degrees, and its bottom becomes less uneven. Here 
the interior and loftier peaks of the great circle of 
Sinai began to open upon us, black, rugged, de¬ 
solate summits; and as we advance, the dark and 
frowning front of Sinai itself (the present Horeb of 
the monks} began to appear. We were still gra¬ 
dually ascending, and the valleys gradually opening, 
but as yet all was a naked desert. Afterwards a few 
shrubs were sprinkled about, and a small encamp¬ 
ment of black tents was seen on our right, with 
camels and goats browsing, and a few donkeys be¬ 
longing to the convent. The scenery through which 
we now passed reminded me strongly of the moun¬ 
tain around the Mer de Grlace in Svdtzerland. I 
had never seen a spot more wild and desolate. 

As we advanced, the valley still opened wider 
and wider, with a gentle ascent, and became full of 
shrubs and tufts of herbs, shut in on each side by 
lofty granite ridges with rugged, shattered peaks a 
thousand feet high, while the face of Horeb rose 
directly before us. Both my companion and myself 
involuntarily exclaimed, Here is room enough for 
a large encampment! ” Reaching the top of the 
ascent, or water-shed, a fine broad plain lay before 
us, sloping down gently towards the S.S.E., enclosed 
by rugged and venerable mountains of dark granite. 


220 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


stern, naked, splintered peaks and ridges, of inde¬ 
scribable grandeur, and terminated at the distance of 
more than a mile by the bold and awful front of 
Horeb, rising perpendicularly in frowning majesty 
from twelve to fifteen hundred feet in height. It was 
a scene of solemn grandeur, wholly unexpected, and 
such as we had never seen; and the associations 
which at the moment rushed upon our minds were 
almost overwhelming. As we went on, new points 
of interest were continually opening to our view. 
On the left of Horeb a deep and narrow valley runs 
up S.S.E. between lofty walls of rock, as if in con¬ 
tinuation of the S.E. corner of the plain. In this 
valley, at the distance of nearly a mile from the 
plain, stands the convent, and the deep verdure of 
its fruit trees and cypresses is seen as the traveller 
approaches—an oasis of beauty amid scenes of the 
sternest desolation. At the S.W. corner of the plain 
the cliffs also retreat, and form a recess or open 
place extending from the plain westward for some 
distance. From this recess there runs up a similar 
narrow valley on the west of Horeb, called El-Leja, 
parallel to that in which the convent stands, and in 
it is the deserted convent El-Arba’in, with a garden 
of olive and other fruit trees not visible from the 
plain. A third garden lies at the mouth of El-Leja, 
and a fourth further west in the recess just men¬ 
tioned. The whole plain is called Wady-er-Bahah ; 
and the valley of the convent is known to the Arabs 
as Wady Shu’eib, that is, the vale of Jethro. Still 


MOUNT SINAI. 


221 


advancing, the front of Horeb rose like a wall before 
us; and one can approach quite to the foot and 
touch the mount. Directly before its base is the 
deep bed of a torrent, by which in the rainy season 
the waters of El-Leja and the mountains around the 
recess pass down eastward across the plain. As we 
crossed it our feelings were strongly affected at find¬ 
ing here so unexpectedly a spot so entirely adapted 
to the Scriptural account of tlie giving of the Law. 
No traveller has described this plain, nor even men¬ 
tioned it, except in a slight and general manner, 
probably because the most have reached the convent 
by another route without passing it, and perhaps, 
too, because neither the highest point of ^Mount Sinai 
(now called Jabel Musa), nor the still loftier summit 
of St. Catherine, is visible from any part of it. 

As we approached the mountain our head Arab, 
Besharah, became evidently quite excited. He 
prayed that our pilgrimage might be accepted, and 
bring rain, and with great earnestness besought that 
when we ascended the mountain we would open a 
certain window in the chapel there, towards the 
south, which, he said, would certainly cause rain to 
fall. He also entreated, almost with tears, that we 
would induce the monks to have compassion on the 
people, and say prayers as they ought to do for rain. 
When told that God alone could send rain, and they 
should look to Him for it, he replied, ‘Yes, but the 
monks have the book of prayer for it; do persuade 
them to use it as they ought.’ There was an ear- 


222 


MOUNTAIN ADVENT^UKES. 


nestness in his manner which was very affecting’. 
From the Wady-esh-Sheikh to the convent is a dis¬ 
tance of twenty-five minutes by a difficult path 
along the rocky bed of the narrow valley. We had 
come on in advance of the loaded camels, and 
reached the convent at half-past five o’clock. Under 
the entrance were many Arabs in high clamour, serfs 
of the convent, who were receiving a distribution of 
some kind of provision from above; we did not learn 
what. The only regular entrance at present is by a 
door, nearly thirty feet (or more exactly twenty- 
eight feet nine inches) from the ground, the great 
door having been walled up for more than a century. 
On making known our arrival, a cord was let down 
with a demand for our letters, and we sent up the 
one we had received from the branch convent in 
Cairo. This proving satisfactory, a rope was let 
down for us, in w’hich seating ourselves, we wnre 
hoisted up one by one by a windlass within to the 
level of the floor, and then pulled in by the hand. 
The superior himself— a mild-looking old man with 
a long white beard—received us with an embrace 
and a kiss, and conducted us to the strangers’ rooms. 
While these were preparing, we seated ourselves in the 
adjacent piazza upon antique chairs of various forms, 
which have doubtless come down through many 
centuries, and had a few moments of quiet to our¬ 
selves in which to collect our thoughts. I was 
affected by the strangeness and overpowering gran¬ 
deur of the scene around us; and it was for some 


MOU^'T SINAI. 


223 


time difficult to realise that we were now actually 
within the very pricincts of that Sinai on which 
from earliest cliildhood I had thought and read with 
so much wonder. Yet, when at length the im¬ 
pression came with its full force upon my mind, 
although not given to the melting mood, I could 
not refrain from bursting into tears. 

We were soon put in possession of our rooms, 
and greeted with kindness by the monks and attend¬ 
ants. . . . Here all travellers have lodged who have 
visited the convent for many generations, but they 
have left no memorials behind except in recent 
years. . . . The garden was now suffering from 
drought, but it looked beautifully verdant in con¬ 
trast with the stern desolation that reigns all around. 
Besides the tall dark cypresses which are seen from 
afar, it contains mostly fruit trees, few vegetables 
being cultivated in it. Indeed the number and 
variety of fruit trees is surprising, and testifies to 
the fine temperature and vivifying power of the 
climate, provided there be a supply of water. The 
almond-trees are very large, and had been long out 
of blossom. The apricot-trees were also large, and 
like the applcrtrees, were now in full bloom. There 
were also pears, pomegranates, figs, quinces, mul¬ 
berries, olives, and many vines, besides other trees 
and shrubs in great variety. The fruit produced is 
said to be excellent. 

The name of Sinai is now given by the Chris¬ 
tians in a general way to this whole cluster of 


224 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


mountains. The peak of Jebel Musa has commonly 
been regarded as the summit of Mount Sinai, the 
place where the Law was given. ... We measured 
across the plain, where we stood, along the water¬ 
shed, and found the breadth to be at that point 2700 
English feet or 900 yards, though in some parts it 
is wider. The distance to the base of Horeb, mea¬ 
sured in like manner, was 7000 feet, or 2333 yards. 
The northern slope of the plain, north of which we 
stood, we judged to be somewhat less than a mile in 
length by one-third of a mile in breadth. We may, 
therefore, fairly estimate the whole plain at two 
geographical miles long, and ranging in breadth 
from one-third to two-thirds of a mile, or as equi¬ 
valent to a surface of at least one square mile. This 
space is nearly doubled by a recess on the west, and 
by the broad and level area of Wady-esh-Sheikh on 
the east, which issues at right angles to the plain, 
and is equally in view of the front and summit of 
the present Horeb. 

The examination of this afternoon convinced us 
that here was space enough to satisfy all the requi¬ 
sitions of the Scriptural narrative, so far as it relates 
to the assembling of the congregation to receive the 
Law. Here, too, one can see the fitness of the 
injunction to set bounds around the mount that 
neither man nor beast might approach too near. 
The encampment before the mount, as has been 
before suggested, might not improbably include 
only the head-quarters of Moses and the Elders, and 


MOUNT SINAI. 


225 


of a portion of the people, while the remainder, 
with their flocks, were scattered in the adjacent 
valleys. 

E. Eobinson, D.D. Biblical Researches in 
Palestine and the adjacent regions. 


Q 


XX. 

GUXaOOTKEE, THE SACKED SOUECE OF 
THE OANOES. 

BY EMMA KOBERTS. 

Having recovered from the fatigues and bruises 
attendant on our journey to the source of the 
Jumna, to the great dismay of a portion of our 
followers, we determined to proceed to Oungootree, 
whence the sacred Granges takes its rise. The 
nearest route from Kursalee to Grungootree may be 
traversed in four days, but the natives always en¬ 
deavour to dissuade travellers from taking it at any 
season of the year, recommending in preference a 
lower, more circuitous, and therefore longer way. 
The more direct road leads over a great arm of the 
Bundurpooch mountain which separates the valleys, 
or rather channels through which the sacred rivers 
hurry from their icy birthplace. The greater part 
of this tract is desert and uninhabited, conducting 
the wayfarer through regions of rock and snow, 
destitute of the dwellings of man, or of supplies for 


GUNGOOTREE. 


227 


his use ; there is danger also that fuel may be want¬ 
ing for that necessary solace to the weary, a blazing 
fire; while the necessity of dispensing with every¬ 
thing like superfluous baggage must oblige the party 
to rest at night in caves and clefts of the rocks. 

Amid the most formidable evils reported of this 
route is the bis-ka-kowa, or poisonous wind, said to 
blow over the highest ridge, and to exhale from 
noxious plants on the borders—a ver}^ natural sup¬ 
position among a race of people ignorant of the 
effects produced on the atmosphere at so great an 
elevation. Yielding to the universal clamour, we 
consented to take the longer and safer path, but 
some friends who were obliged to forego the journey 
to G-ungootree crossed into the valley of the Ganges 
by a very difficult and romantic route. After part¬ 
ing company at Banass, they descended to the banks 
of the Bhim, a roaring torrent, rushing beneath pre¬ 
cipices upwards of 2000 perpendicular feet from the 
river; the eagles wlieeling through the sky from 
their eyries near the summit, appearing not larger 
than crows. The ascent then led over a mountain 
covered with cedars, a noble forest, not uncheerful, 
though marked with sombre grandeur. 

The next day’s march conducted the party along 
the banks of a torrent which poured down the face 
of a mountain from a bed of snow near its summit. 
The day was cold, the ground hard with frost, but 
the air bracing, and the scenery wild and magni¬ 
ficent. A long and toilsome ascent over Unchi- 
ghati followed; scrambling up the bed of a stream 


228 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES 


over rough stones, rendered slippery from being 
cased in ice, they reached the limit of the cedar 
forest, and subsequently came to birch and small 
rhododendrons. The scene then assumed a very 
wintry aspect, and soon everything like foliage was 
left behind. Attaining the crest of the pass, which 



View in the Himalayas. 


was covered with snow, and at an elevation of some 
hundred feet above the limit of the forest, on look¬ 
ing back to Bundurpooch, Duti Manji, and Ba- 
chuncha peak and ridge, few scenes of more sublime 
grandeur could be found throughout the whole of 
these stupendous regions. The prospect of range 
after range of the south and east was very extensive; 

















GUXCiOOTREE. 


229 


an ocean of ridges in one wide amphitheatre, closed 
in by the line of the^snowy mountains resting their 
fantastic peaks against tlie dark blue sky. Below 
the course of the Bhagirati could be traced, which, 
after issuing from its gigantic bed of snow, rejoicing 
in its escape from the wintry mountains, and their 
rugged and awful approaches, flows in tranquil 
beauty through a peaceful valley. In descending 
the south-east side of the pass, the birch which had 
clothed the previous path gave place to pines and 
ever-green oaks, wliich grew in great abundance in 
advance of the cedar ; the rhododendron, which near 
tlie crest was merely a creeper, became a tree, a 
change in the nature of vegetation marking the 
different heights, which is exceedingly interesting to 
the traveller. 

The descent of this mountain to Nemgang was 
long and painful, and to Europeans a new route, the 
generality of travellers crossing the ridge from the 
Jumna to the Granges, either higher up or lower 
do\fn ; but tlie next day’s march compensated for 
all the fatigue incurred in its approach. Descending 
to the Bini-ke-Grarh, a torrent rushing down a high 
ridge to the northward, the glen which it watered 
proved of surpassing beauty; nothing could exceed 
the loveliness of the foliage which clothed this 
summer valley, or rather vista; for, opening on a 
view of the precipitous heights of the Unchi-Ghati, 
it contrasted its romantic attractions with the sub¬ 
lime features of the mountains beyond. Reaching 
the junction of the Bini and the Bhagirati, the holy 




230 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


name given to the sacred river, the travellers found 
the Ganges a noble stream, much wider and deeper 
than the Jumna, at the same distance from its 
source, but not so tumultuous. 

Descending to Nangang by a different route to 
that already mentioned, we also were compelled to 
encounter many difficulties ; the prospects, however, 
repaid them. Equally grand, though different in 
character to those last described, at a very consider¬ 
able depth below, we looked upon a cultivated 
scene—the hanging terraces common to these hills, 
waving with grain, and watered by winding streams, 
and running along the base of high woody trees. 
Beyond, again, were the eternal mountains in all 
their varieties; snow resting on the crests of some, 
others majestically grouped with venerable timber, 
and others bleak, bare, and barren, rising in frown¬ 
ing majesty from the green and sunny slopes which 
smiled below. Between these different ranges ran 
deep ravines, dark with impenetrable forests, ren¬ 
dered more savage by the awful music of the torrents 
roaring through their fastnesses, while presently 
their streams issuing forth into open day, were seen , 
winding round green spots bright with fruit-trees. ! 
Such, or nearly such, for every traveller sees them i 
under a different medium, were the prospects which ^ 
beguiled us as we slipped and slid down the steep j 
side of the mountain-pass. Nangang formed our ’ 
halting-place; several days’ march still lay before I 
us, and there were more mountains to climb and j 
more forests to thread. We now observed a diversity | 


GUNGOOTREE. 


231 


in the timber, chestnuts of magnificent growth being 
the prevailing tree. Our sportsmen found plenty 
of game: the monah, the feathered wonder of the 
Himalaya, and other varieties of the pheasant tribe, 
peopled these vast solitudes, and paid tribute to the 
guns of the invading strangers. 

We met with some delightful halting-places od 
the line of march, grassy terraces, carpeted with 
strawberry and wild fiowers, w^here the cowslip, the 
primrose, and the buttercup, brought the pranked- 
out fields of our native country strongly to the mind. 
Many of the travellers in the Himalaya are moved 
even to rapture at the sight of the first daisy which 
springs spontaneously in their path; as an exotic in 
some garden of the plains it excites deep emotion; 
but growing wild, spangling the meadow-grass with 
its silvery stars, it becomes infinitely more interest¬ 
ing; and the home-sick, pining exile will often 
gather its earliest encountered blossom weeping. 

Leaving this luxuriant vegetation, we arrived 
at a wild spot, the summit of a ridge of peaks 
covered with snow; and though the prospect was 
more circumscribed, and all of a greater sameness, 
we enjoyed it amazingly. We seemed to be hemmed 
in on all sides with thick-ribbed ice, transported to 
antarctic snows, imprisoned amid icebergs, vast, 
freezing, and impassable. Presently, however, we 
emerged, and descending through the snow, reached 
the boundary-line between the districts of the Jumna 
and the Ganges. The extreme limits of these river- 
territories were marked in the manner usually em- 


232 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


ployed in rude and desolate places, by heaps of 
stone,—many raised by Europeans,—who thus com¬ 
memorate their pilgrimage. These cairns being 
destitute of inscriptions, it is impossible to say who 
the adventurous architects were, since no European 
name has any chance of being retained in its primi¬ 
tive form by a native. 

The next point of great interest is the summit 
of a ridge, whence the first view of the Granges is 
obtained, a sight which never fails to raise the droop¬ 
ing spirits of tlie Hindoo followers, and which excites 
no small degree of enthusiasm in the breast of the 
Christian travellers. The sacred river, as seen from 
this height, flows in a dark, rapid, and broad stream, 
and, though at no great apparent distance, must 
still be reached by more than one toilsome march. 
From a height about two miles from Gungootree, 
the first glimpse, and that a partial one, is obtain¬ 
able of that holy place, which lies sequestered in a 
glen of the deepest solitude, lonely, and almost in¬ 
accessible, for few there are who could persevere in 
surmounting the difficulties of the approach. Con¬ 
siderable distances must be traversed over project¬ 
ing masses of rough stones, flinty, pointed, and un¬ 
certain, many being loose, and threatening to roll 
over the enterprising individual who attempts the 
rugged way. Sometimes the face of the rock must 
be climbed from cliff to cliff; at others, where there 
is no resting-place for hand or foot, ladders are 
placed in aid of the ascent; while awful chasms be¬ 
tween are passed on some frail spar flung across. 



t. \N< .< H » I KKK. rilh III \l \l. \\ \> 









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i 

f 




/ 




GUNGOOTREE. 


233 


These horrid rocks would seem indeed to form in¬ 
vincible barriers to the approach of the holy place, 
but religious enthusiasm on the one hand, and scien¬ 
tific research, stimulated by curiosity, on the other, 
render the barriers inadequate for resisting the in¬ 
vasions of man. The difficult nature of the access, 
however, prevents the concourse of pilgrims who 
resort to more easily attainable places esteemed 
sacred on this hallowed river. 

The grandeur of the scene which opened upon 
us, as we at length stood upon the threshold 
of Grungootree, cannot be described in words. 
Kocks were piled upon rocks in awfid majesty, 
all shivered into points, which rise one upon 
another in splendid confusion, enclosing a glen of 
the wildest nature, where the Granges, beautiful 
in every haunt, from its infancy to its final junction 
with the ocean, pours its shallow waters over a bed 
of shingle, diversified by jutting rocks, and every 
leaf shadowed by the splendid foliage of some fine 
old trees. The devotee who undoubtingly believes 
that every step he takes towards the source of tliat 
holy river, which, from his infancy, he has been 
taught to look upon as a deity, will lead him into 
beatitude, is content to seek its origin at Gungoo- 
tree, but the real source of the sacred stream lies 
still higher, in more inaccessible solitudes; and it 
was reserved for the ardour of those who measured 
the altitude of the highest peaks, and penetrated to 
the utmost limits of man’s dominion, to trace the 
exact birthplace of the holy river. Captains Hodg- 


234 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


son and Herbert, in 1818, found at the height of 
13,800 feet above the sea-level, the Bhagarati, or 
true Ganges, issuing from beneath a low arch at the 
base of a vast mass of frozen snow, nearly three hun¬ 
dred feet in height, and composed of different layers, 
each several feet in thickness, and, in all probability, 
the accumulation of ages. Neither here, nor at 
Gungootree, is there anything resembling a cow’s 
mouth to support the popular fallacy, which must 
have been invented by persons utterly unacquainted 
with the true features of the scene in which the 
sacred river gladdens earth with its ever-bounteous 
waters. 

A pilgrimage to Gungootree is accounted one of 
the most meritorious actions which a Hindoo can 
perform ; and, in commemoration of his visit to this 
holy place, a Ghoorka chieftain has left a memorial 
of his conquests and his piety, in a small pagoda, 
erected in honour of the goddess, on a platform of 
rock, about twenty feet higher than the bed of the 
river. The Brahmins who have the care of this 
temple are accommodated with habitations in its close 
vicinity, and there a few sheds for the temporary 
residence of pilgrims, many of whom, however, are 
content with such shelter as the neighbouring caves 
can afford. The usual ceremonies of bathing, pray¬ 
ing, and marking the forehead, were gone through 
at this place, tlie officiating Brahmin taking care 
that the fees should be duly paid. Notwithstanding 
the stern and sullen nature of his retreat at some 
periods of the year, he may be said to lead a busy life. 


GUNGOOTKEE. 


235 


conversing with devout pilgrims and carriers of water 
to distant lands who require his seal to authenticate 
their burdens; and making the most out of all his 
visitors, whatever their country or their creed may 
be. Though dispensing with his orisons we paid 
him for his services, and it seemed a matter of in¬ 
difference to him on what account he received the 
cash. 

E. Roberts, Hindostan, the shores of the Red 
Sea, and the Himalaya Mountains, 


XXL 

ADAM’S PEAK, CEYLON. 

ASCENT BY DR. DAVY, 1817. 

The first excursion which I made into the interior 
after my arrival in Ceylon was to Adam’s Peak, the 
highest mountain in the island, and one that can¬ 
not fail to excite the interest of the traveller; its 
name being known, and its fame spread all over the 
world, and being an object of veneration almost 
equally to the Buddhist and the Hindoo, to the 
Mahometan and the nominal Christian of India, 
each of whom considers it a sacred mountain, and 
has attached to it some superstitious tale. 

On the 15th of April, 1817, at dawn, I set out 
from Colombo in company with my friends, the Eev. 
G-. Bisset, William Grranville, Esq., and Mr. Moon; 
on the T7th we reached Katnapoora, and on the 
evening of the 19th, the summit of the Peak, dis¬ 
tant from Colombo, only sixty-six miles. 

Our mode of travelling varied with the nature 



M'XM’S PKAK, CKVLON. 








Adam’s peak, ceylox. 


237 


of the road and country. The first sixteen miles we 
went expeditiously in gigs, over an excellent road, 
through a populous country, delightfully shaded the 
greater part of the way by the rich and beautiful 
foliage of extensive groves of cocoa-nut-trees, which 
form a deep belt round the south-west part of the 
island. 

On leaving the great maritime road at Pantara 
to strike into the interior, we exchanged our gigs 
for the indolent Indian vehicles, palanqueens, in 
which we were carried as far as Eatnapoora, in 
Saffragan, about forty-three miles from Colombo, 
over a pretty good new road, through a country low 
and yet hilly, in general overgrown with wood, very 
thinly inhabited (having been a border region) and 
little cultivated; and excepting here and there, ex¬ 
hibiting few objects and little scenery of an interest¬ 
ing nature. At Horima, whfere we slept the first 
night in our palanqueens, we noticed the remains of 
a Hindoo building of the simplest kind of architec¬ 
ture, the style of which has been already alluded to. 
The next morning at dawn, just before sunrise, from 
a hill over which we were passing, we had a splendid 
view of a tropical wilderness, hills, dales, and plains, 
all luxuriantly wooded, bounded by blue mountains, 
fleecy clouds resting on the low ground, and a bril¬ 
liant sky overhead. The charms of the prospect 
were heightened by the coolness and freshness of the 
air, and by the animation of the scene, produced 
by the notes of a variety of birds, some of them 


238 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


reminding one of the blackbird, others of the song 
of the thrush, and others of that of the red-breast; 
with which were mixed the harsh cries of the wild 
peacock, jungle-fowl, and parrot, the soft cooing of 
doves, and the shrill sounds of innumerable insects. 
. . . Though not eight miles from Adam's Peak, the 
river here is hardly fifty feet above the level of the 
sea. ... At Eatnapoora we left our palanqueens and 
proceeded towards the mountains, each in a chair 
lashed to two bamboos, and carried on men’s shoul¬ 
ders. In this manner we travelled abou.t nine miles 
as far as Palabatula. . . Four miles from Eatna¬ 
poora we stopped to breakfast at Gillemalle, a beau¬ 
tiful spot. . . . The latter half of the way is almost 
one continued ascent by a narrow, rocky path, shaded 
either by an impenetrable jungle, or by trees so 
covered with parasitical plants, that each resembles 
a bower. This kind of luxuriant vegetation is pro¬ 
bably connected with the dampness of the climate, 
and the frequent and heavy showers which fall in 
this part of the country. Owing to the same cause, 
the country is infested with leeches, from which the 
naked legs of our bearers suffered not a little, and 
from which we did not escape completely. Pataba- 
tula is the last inhabited station on the peak. We 
gladly sought shelter there from a heavy thunder¬ 
storm which had deluged us with rain for more than 
two hours. There is a little Wilhare at this spot, 
and two open amblams, or rest-houses, one small, 
where we took up our quarters, and the other pretty 




ADAM’S PEAK, CEYLON. 


239 


large, where we found assembled at least two hun¬ 
dred pilgrims of both sexes and of all ages, either 
going to, or returning from, the Peak. 

At dawn, the next morning, we started for the 
summit on foot, the mountain-path we had to ascend 
admitting of no other mode of travelling. . . After 
toiling up this steep, gloomy path about two miles, 
we came to a halting-place on a little platform 
above a precipice, from which we had a prospect of 
the country below, that was at once grand and beau¬ 
tiful. 

About half-way up the mountain we crossed a 
small torrent that flows over an immense tabular 
mass of rock; and about a mile further, to the bed 
of a much larger torrent, the Setagongola, which 
may be considered the parent stream of the Kalu- 
ganga. This river scene was a very impressive 
one, and extremely picturesque; the torrent, with 
fine effect, rushed from a wooded height down a 
channel obstructed by great masses of rock, on 
which were assembled numerous groups of pilgrims 
variously employed, some bathing, some making a 
frugal repast on cold rice, and others resting them¬ 
selves lying at full length, or sitting cross-legged in 
the Indian fashion, chewing betel. About half a 
mile from the river we crossed a little glen. The 
descent, which is very steep, was facilitated in the 
most difficult parts, by rude wooden ladders. The 
opposite ascent was in appearance of a much more 
formidable nature, but the danger is removed by 
steps having been cut in the rock. About half-way 


240 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


up the rock, on the left-hand side, is the figure of a 
man rudely cut, and an inscription in Singalese, 
both commemorating the being by whom the steps 
had been made. From the top of this bare rock we 
were once more gratified with an extensive view. A 
thunderstorm was gathering; the scene was magni¬ 
ficent and awful, and of a nature to baffle descrip¬ 
tion. . . . Very soon after leaving the rock the storm 
commenced, attended with very heavy rain, and with 
thunder and lightning extremely loud and vivid. 
There being no shelter it was useless to halt; we 
continued ascending without intermission, the diffi¬ 
culty of the path increasing with the height. 

The storm lasted till about half-past two, when 
we had reached a little flat, covered with stunted 
wood. VTiilst we stopped here to rest ourselves for 
a few minutes, under a rude shed made for the use 
of pilgrims, the w^eather rapidly improved; the rain 
nearly ceased, the thunder was to be heard only 
rolling at a distance, the mists and clouds were dis¬ 
persing, and we presently had the pleasure of seeing 
the object of our toil immediately above us, the 
Peak, of a conical form, rising rapidly and majesti¬ 
cally to a point. 

We arrived on the top of the mountain a little 
after three o’clock. The rain was over, the air clear, 
and the sun shining. The magnificent views of the 
surrounding scenery amply repaid us for a laborious 
march, and all the difficulties we had to contend with. 

From the surrounding scenery our curiosity 
soon led us to examine the summit of the mountain. 


ADAM S PEAK, CEYLON. 


241 


It is very small, according to the measurement made 
by Lieut. Malcolm (the first European who ascended 
the Peak) its area is seventy-four feet by twenty- 
four. It is surrounded by a stone wall five feet high, 
built in some places on the brink of the precipice. 
The apex of the mountain is a rock, which stands 
in the middle of the inclosure, about six or eight 
feet above the level ground. On the top is the 
object of worship of the natives, the Sree-pada, the 
sacred impression, as they imagine, of the foot of 
Boodhoo, which he stamped on his first visit to the 
island. It is a superficial hollow, five feet three 
inches and three quarters long, and between two feet 
seven inches, and two feet five inches wide. It is 
ornamented with a margin of brass, studded with a 
few gems, of little value; it is covered with a roof, 
which is fastened to the rock by four iron chains, 
and supported by four pillars ; and it is surrounded 
by a low wall. The roof was lined with coloured 
cloths; and its margin being decked with flowers and 
streamers, it made a very gay appearance. The 
cavity certainly bears a coarse resemblance to the 
figure of the human foot. 

We passed the night on the mountains; and it 
was the first time since I had entered the tropics 
that I had occasion to complain of cold. The next 
morning before sunrise, we were awoke by the shouts 
of a party of pilgrims just arrived. They consisted 
of several men and women, all native Singalese, neatly 
dressed in clean clothes. They immediately pro- 

R 


242 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


ceeded to tlieir devotions. A priest, in his yellow 
robes, stood on the rock close to the impression of 
the foot, with his face to the people, who had ranged 
themselves in a row below, some on their knees, 
with their hands uplifted and joined palm to palm, 
and others bending forward with their hands in the 
same attitude of devotion. The priest, in a loud, 
clear voice, sentence by sentence, recited the articles 
of their religious faith and duties, and, in response, 
they repeated the same after him. When he had 
finished, they raised a loud shout, and he retiring, 
they went through the same ceremony by themselves 
with one of the party for their leader. 

An interesting scene followed this; wives affec¬ 
tionately and respectfully saluted their husbands, 
and children their parents, and friends one another. 
An old grey-headed woman first made her salams to a 
really venerable old man, she was moved to tears 
and almost kissed his feet; he affectionately raised 
her up. Several middle-aged men then salamed 
the patriarchal pair; these men were salamed in re¬ 
turn by still younger men, who had first paid their 
respect to the old people; and, lastly, those nearly 
of the same standing slightly salamed each other, 
and exchanged betel leaves. The intention of these 
salutations, I was informed, was of a moral kind, to 
confirm the ties of kindred, to strengthen family love 
and friendship, and remove animosities. The Ma¬ 
hometans, there is good reason to believe, first as¬ 
signed the name to this mountain by which it is 


Adam’s peak, ceylon. 


243 


generally known amongst Europeans. The moor- 
men of Ceylon still call it Adam Malay; they say 
that Adam, when turned out of Paradise, lamented 
his offence on the summit of the Peak standing on 
one foot (of which the impression remains) until he 
was pardoned by Grod. 


From Dr. Davy’s Interior of Ceylon. 


244 


XXII. 

ASCENT OF THE OUNUNO-TALANO, 
SUMATKA. 

A CHAIN of mountains runs through the whole length 
of the island of Sumatra; and the ranges are, in 
many places, double and treble. Some near the 
equator attain the height of 15,000 feet; and among 
them are extensive plains of a great elevation. The 
mountains are mostly on the western side. One, 
which is an active volcano, is known in the island 
under the name of Soelassie. It is upwards of 9000 
feet above the level of the sea, and was in a state of 
eruption in the month of October 1845. Several 
Dutchmen were not afraid to make the ascent even 
during this period. Some extracts are given from 
the narrative of one of them. 

On our way from Solok to Mocara Pamy, we 
had perceived from time to time, from the top of 
the hills, columns of smoke rising from the Soelassie; 
and more than once this sight had awakened in us a 
desire to visit this mountain. We made our wishes 


ASCENT OF THE GUNUNG. 


245 


known to tlie overseer, ]Mr. Van der Yen, who re¬ 
ceived us cordially, and fully approved of the pro- 
iect. He himself superintended the preparations, 
and the very next day, October the 21st, we were 
on horseback by five o’clock in the morning. 



The Scelassie, Sumatra. 


Scarcely had we been on the road a quarter of 
an hour, wlien we came to a deep cutting covered 
witli loose flints which made the road so dangerous 
that we were obliged to descend and lead our horses. 











246 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


We crossed a little bamboo bridge without any pa¬ 
rapet, and after having climbed up a steep slope we 
were rewarded for our trouble by a most magnificent 
view. And in the distance we saw the Soelassie, 
which continued to throw out its columns of 
smoke. 

Near Batol-Bandjak, where we stopped, we saw 
in abundance these trachyle flints. The inhabitants 
made us visit several mineral springs in the neigh¬ 
bourhood ; and we found that the water was bitter 
and sulphurous. 

In the evening we reached the Batol-Bedjand- 
jang at the foot of the volcano. We resumed our 
march at five o’clock in the morning in the midst of 
mist and very disagreeable fine rain. The ther¬ 
mometer pointed at 68°. And we had to climb suc¬ 
cessively three sufficiently steep ridges of more than 
600 feet in height each. At the top of the last one, 
the view extended over a plateau covered with a rich 
vegetation of trees and shrubs, at the extremity of 
which we reached a new ascent of about 1300 feet. 
The soil, which is composed of a mixture of sul¬ 
phurous and calcareous earth, had become hot; and 
here and there rose little clouds of smoke from the 
bottom of the crevasses. 

It was eleven o’clock when we took a moment’s 
repose at the bottom of the highest peak which still 
stood above us, and towered about 300 feet above our 
lieads. And here, although a strong smell of sulphur 
indicated the neighbourhood of the crater and the 
end of our journey, yet the activity of the volcano 


ASCENT OF THE GUNUNG. 


247 


also became more evident. In the midst of the 
blocks of old lava which surrounded us, the vegeta¬ 
tion had diminished, the brambles had dried up, 
and the trunks of the trees were blackened and 
burnt. We rapidly cleared the space which re¬ 
mained, and arrived at a crevasse situated between 
the two summits, from one of which the crater was 
to be seen in all its imposing grandeur. 

Wliat a majestic spectacle it was! Before us 
stood open the old crater by which all the activity of 
the volcano had developed itself for ages past, and 
further off the one then in a state of eruption. It 
appeared like a lake of recent formation environed by 
flames and clouds of smoke. The dead silence 
which reigned around us was only interrupted by 
the subterranean noises of the volcanoes. 

On the south-west, at about 360 feet from the 
summit, the furnace was fully at work. The western 
side was formed by a vertical wall over which a part 
of the lava escaped. On the south side, a sloping 
ridge is lost in depths which the eye cannot pene¬ 
trate. As far as can be seen, crevasses appeared 
from whence escaped clouds of smoke. 

To get a nearer view of the lake, we descended the 
sloping sides, helping ourselves as much by our hands 
as by our feet, and never letting go our hold on one 
block of rocks until we could fix ourselves firmly on 
another. So we were witnesses of what was going 
on within ; and we heard a continuous noise resem¬ 
bling that made by the paddle-wheels of many steam¬ 
boats in motion. 


248 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


Mr. Van der Ven here ran into the greatest 
danger. Having gone quite close to an opening, the 
hot lava gave way under his feet ; but happily it 
rested on a mass which was already hardened; so 
that he had time to jump off backwards. The heat 
did not permit us to remain long in the crater; we 
were obliged to abandon it hastily in order to visit 
the little sulphur lake which was under the ridge 
on to which we had climbed. This lake, which is 
of a rounded form, is about 160 feet in diameter. 
Three of us descended an almost vertical wall, of 
perhaps twenty-two feet high, down to a quantity of 
boiling water. Clinging with one hand to the cre¬ 
vasses they could with the other get out some spoon¬ 
fuls ; but the strong smell of sulphur in this water 
obliged them to get up again very quickly. 

We then recrossed the plateau to the point where 
we had commenced our examination in order to see 
about preparing a convenient lodging-place for the 
night. By ten o’clock in the evening we were 
wrapped in our cloaks and seeking to get some sleep 
on our stony beds when the rain came on again with 
great violence. Clouds from whence proceeded 
such lightning as illuminated the heavens succeeded 
each other in rapid succession; and three times our 
tent was nearly carried away. The water streamed 
in upon us; and we trembled with cold. The wind 
also put out our lights; but by the illumination of 
the lightning we managed after many efforts to fix 
our tent firmly; and then under its feeble shelter 
we waited for the day 


ASCENT OF THE GUNUNG. 


249 


We had struggled for some hours against the 
unchained elements, and their fury might, for aught 
we knew, have been prolonged; so it was a great 
relief to us in the morning to see the sky become 
perfectly pure and cloudless before we set out on 
our return. We descended by the eastern side, 
whose slopes were less dangerous, right down to the 
bottom of the extinct crater, and up again on the 
other side to the summit, from whence we were able 
to enjoy a magnificent view over hills and valleys, 
lakes, rivers, and islands, which were spread out 
beneath our eyes. 

Nonvelles Annates des Voyages. 


250 


XXIII 

PETEE BOTTE, MAUKITIUS. 

ASCENT BY CAPTAIN LLOYD, LIEUTS. TAYLOK, 
PHILLPOTTS AND KEPPEL IN 1832. 

You are no doubt aware, from my former letter, 
that the Peter Botte has always been considered in¬ 
accessible ; and although a tradition exists of a 
man of that name having ascended it and losing 
his life in returning, it is seldom believed, no au¬ 
thentic account remaining of the fact. A French¬ 
man, forty years ago, declared that he had got on 
the top by himself, and made a hole in the rock for 
a flag-staff; and his countrymen naturally believed 
him; but the value of this assertion may also be 
judged of by the present narrative. 

The ascent has been frequently attempted, and 
by several people, of late years: once by the officers 
of His Majesty’s ship Samarang, who lost their way 
and found themselves separated from the Peter 
Botte itself by a deep cleft in the rock, and in con¬ 
sequence were compelled to return. Captain Lloyd,. 



PK'rKk 


I 


Hori’K, M.\rKiriL:s. 

































































































PETER BOTTE. 


251 


chief civil engineer, and your old friend Dawkins, 
made the attempt last year, and succeeded in reach¬ 
ing a point between the shoulder and the neck, 
where they planted a ladder which did not reach 
half-way up a perpendicular face of rock that ar¬ 
rested their progress. This was the last attempt. 
Captain Lloyd was then, however, so convinced of 
the practicability of the undertaking, that he deter¬ 
mined to repeat the experiment this year, and ac¬ 
cordingly made all his preparations by the beginning 
of this month. On the 6th he started from town, 
accompanied by Lieut. Philpotts of the 29th regi¬ 
ment, Lieut. Keppel, E.N. (my old messmate), and 
myself, whom he asked to join him. He had pre¬ 
viously sent out two of his overseers with about 
twenty-five Negroes and Sepoy convicts to make all 
necessary preparations. They carried with them a 
sort of tent, and ropes, crow-bars, a portable ladder, 
provisions, and everything we could possibly want 
for three or four days, as we intended to remain on 
the shoulder of the mountain, close to the base of 
Peter Botte, until we either succeeded, or were con¬ 
vinced of its impossibility. These men had worked 
hard, and on our arriving at the foot of the moun¬ 
tain we found the tent and all our tools, vtc., safely 
lodged on the shoulder of Peter Botte. I may as 
well describe here the appearance of the mountain. 
PVom most points of view it seems to rise out of the 
range which runs nearly parallel to that part of the 
sea-coast which forms the Bay of Port Louis ; but on 
arriving at its base you find that it is actually sepa- 


252 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


rated from the rest of the range by a ravine or cleft 
of tremendous depth. Seen from the town (as you 
will perceive by the sketch) it appears a cone with a 
large overhanging rock at its summit, but so extra¬ 
ordinarily sharp and knife-like is this, in common 
with all the rocks on the island, that when seen 
end on, as the sailors say, it appears nearly quite 
perpendicular. In fact, I have seen it in fifty dif¬ 
ferent points of view, and cannot yet assign to it 
any one precise form. But to my tale. 

We dined that evening and slept at the house of 
a Frenchman in the plain below, and rose early next 
morning much exhausted by the attacks of bugs. All 
our preparations being made, we started, and a more 
picturesque line of march I have seldom seen. 

Our van was composed of about fifteen or twenty 
Sepoys of every variety of costume, together with a 
few Negroes carrying our food, dry clothes, &c. 
Our path lay up a very steep ravine formed by the 
rains in the wet season, which having loosened all 
the stones, made it anything but pleasant; those 
below were obliged to keep a bright look out for 
tumbling rocks, and one of these missed Keppel and 
myself by a miracle. From the head of this gorge 
we turned off along the other face of the mountain ; 
and it would have been a fine subject for a picture, 
to look up from the ravine below and see the long 
string slowly picking their kittle ” footsteps along 
a ledge not anywhere a foot broad; yet these mon¬ 
keys carried their loads full four hundred yards along 
this face, holding by the shrubs above, while below 


PETER BOTTE. 


253 


there was nothing but the tops of the forest for 
more than nine hundred feet down the slope. 

On rising to the shoulder a view burst upon us 
which quite defies my descriptive powers. We stood 
on a little narrow ledge or neck of land, about twenty 
yards in length. On the side which we mounted 
we looked back into the deep wooded gorge we had 
passed up ; while on the opposite side of the neck, 
which was between six and seven feet broad, the 
precipice went sheer down fifteen hundred feet to 
the plain. One extremity of the neck was equally 
precipitous, and the other was bounded by what to 
me was the most magnificent sight I ever saw. A 
narrow, knife-like edge of rock, broken here and 
there by precipitous faces, ran up in a conical form, 
to about 300 or 350 feet above us, and on the very 
pinnacle old ‘‘ Peter Botte ” frowned in all his glory. 
I have done several sketches of him, one of which, 
from this point, I send by the same ship as this 
letter. 

After a short rest we proceeded to work. The 
ladder (see sketch) had been left by Lloyd and Daw¬ 
kins last year. It was about twelve feet high, and 
reached, as you may perceive, about half-way up a 
face of perpendicular rock. The foot, which was 
spiked, rested on a ledge not quite visible in the 
sketch, with barely three inches on eacli side. A 
grapnel-line had been also left last year, but was 
not used. A Negro of Lloyd’s clambered from the 
top of the ladder by the cleft in the face of the rock, 
not trusting his weight to the old and rotten line. 


254 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


He carried a small cord round his middle, and it 
was fearful to see the cool, steady way in which he 
climbed, where a single loose stone or false hold must 
have sent him down into the abyss; however, he fear¬ 
lessly scrambled away, till at length we heard him 
halloo from under the neck, All right I ” These 
Negroes use their feet exactly like monkeys, grasp¬ 
ing with them every projection almost as firmly as 
with their hands. The line carried up he made 
fast above, and up we went all " shinned ” in suc¬ 
cession. It was, joking apart, awful work. In 
several places the ridge ran to an edge not a foot 
broad, and I could, as I held on, half-sitting, half¬ 
kneeling across the ridge, have kicked my right 
shoe down to the plain on one side, and my left into 
the bottom of the ravine on the other. The only 
thing that surprised me was my own steadiness and 
freedom from all giddiness. I had been nervous in 
mounting the ravine in the morning, but gradually 
I got so excited and determined to succeed, that I 
could look down that dizzy height without the 
smallest sensation of swimming in the head: never¬ 
theless, I held on uncommonly hard, and felt very 
well satisfied when I was safe under the neck. And 
a more extraordinary situation I never was in. The 
head, which is an enormous mass of rock, about 
thirty-five feet in height, overhangs its base many 
feet on every side. A ledge of tolerably level rock 
runs round three sides of the base, about six feet in 
width, bounded everywhere by the abrupt edge of 
the precipice, except in the spot where it is joined 


PETER BOTTE. 


255 


by the ridge up which we climbed. In one spot, 
the head, though overhanging its base several feet, 
reaches only perpendicularly over the edge of tlie 
precipice, and most fortunately it was at the very 
spot where we mounted. Here it was that we 
reckoned on getting up; a communication being 
established with the shoulder by a double line of 
ropes, we proceeded to get up the necessary materiel, 

, —Lloyd’s ladder, additional coils of rope, crow-bars, 
&c. But now the question, and a puzzler, too, was 
how to get the ladder up against the rock. Lloyd 
had prepared some iron arrows with tbongs to fire 
over; and, having got up a gun, he made a line fast 
round his body, which we all held on, and going 
over the edge of the precipice on the opposite side, 
he leaned back against the line and fired over the 
least projecting part. Had the line broken he would 
have fallen 1800 feet. Twice this failed; and then 
he had recourse to a large stone with a lead line, 
which s^vung diagonally, and seemed to be a feasible 
plan; several times he made beautiful heaves, but 
the provoking line would not catch, and away went 
the stone far below; till at length ^olus, pleased, I 
suppose, with his perseverance, gave us a shift of 
wind for about a minute, and over went the stone, 
and was eagerly seized on the opposite side. 

Hurrah, my lads! steady’s the word! Three 
lengths of the ladder were put together on the ledge, 
a larjre line was attached to the one which was over 
the head, and carefully drawn up; and finally, a 
two-inch rope to the extremity of which we lashed 


256 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the top of our ladder, then lowered it gently over the 
precipice till it hung perpendicularly, and was 
steadied by two Negroes on the ridge below. “ All 
right; now hoist away! ” and up went the ladder, 
till the foot came to the edge of our ledge, wdiere 
it was lashed in firmly to the neck. We then hauled 
away on the guy to steady it, and made it fast; a line 
was passed over by the lead-line to hold on, and up 
went Lloyd, screeching and hallooing, and we all 
three scrambled after him. The union-jack and a 
boat-hook were passed up, and old England’s flag 
waved freely and gallantly on the redoubted Peter 
Botte. No sooner was it seen flying than the Un¬ 
daunted, frigate, saluted in the harbour, and the guns 
of our saluting battery replied; for though our ex¬ 
pedition had been kept secret until we started, it 
was made known on the morning of our ascent, 
and all hands were on the look out, as we afterwards 
learnt. We then got a bottle of wine to the top of 
the rock, christened King William’s Peak, and drank 
his Majesty’s health, hands round the Jack, and then 
Hip I hip ! hip ! hurrah ! 

I certainly never felt anything like the excite¬ 
ment of that moment, even the Negroes down on the 
shoulder took up our hurrahs; and we could hear far 
below, the faint shouts of the astonished inhabitants 
of the plain. We were determined to do nothing by 
halves, and accordingly made preparations for sleep¬ 
ing under the neck. After dinner, as it was getting 
dark, I screwed up my nerves and climbed up to 
our queer little nest at the top, followed by Tom 


PETER BOTTE. 


257 


Keppel and a Negro, who carried some dry wood, 
and made a fire in a cleft under the rock. Lloyd 
and Phillpotts soon came up, and we began to ar¬ 
range ourselves for the night, each taking a glass of 
brandy to begin with. I had on two pairs of trousers, 
a shooting waistcoat, jacket, and large fliishing jacket 
over that, a tliick woollen sailor’s cap and two 
blankets; and each of us lighted a cigar as we seated 
ourselves to wait for the appointed hour for the 
signal of our success. It was a glorious sight to 
look down from that giddy pinnacle over the whole 
island, lying so calm and beautiful in the moonlight, 
except where the broad, black shadows of the other 
mountains intercepted the light. Here and there 
we could see a light twinkling in the plains, or a 
fire of some sugar manufactory ; but not a sound of 
any sort readied us, except an occasional shout from 
the party down on the shoulder (we four being the 
only ones above). At length, in the direction of 
Port Louis, a bright flash was seen, and after a long 
interval, the sullen boom of the evening gun. We 
then prepared our pre-arranged signal; and whiz 
went a rocket from our nest, lighting up for an 
instant the peaks of the hills below us, and then leav¬ 
ing us in darkness. We next burnt a blue light; and 
nothing can be conceived more perfectly beautiful than 
the broad glare against the overhanging rock. The 
wild-looking group w'e made, in our uncouth habili¬ 
ments, and the narrow ledge on which we stood, were 
all distinctly seen ; while many of the tropical birds, 
frightened at our vagaries, came glancing down in 


258 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the light, and then swooped away, screeching into 
the gloom below, for the gorge on our left was as 
dark as Erebus. We burnt another blue light, and 
threw up two more rockets, when our laboratory 
being exhausted, the patient-looking, insulted moon 
had it all her own way again. We now rolled our¬ 
selves up in our blankets, and having lashed Phill- 
potts, who was a determined sleep-walker, to Keppel’s 
leg, we tried to sleep; but it blew strong before the 
morning, and was very cold. We drank all our 
brandy, and kept tucking in the blankets the whole 
night without success. At day-break we rose, stiff, 
cold, and hungry, and I shall conclude briefly by 
saying that, after about four or five hours’ hard work, 
we got a hole mined in the rock, and sunk the foot 
of our twelve-foot ladder deep in this, lashing a 
water-barrel, as a landmark, at the top ; and, above 
all, a long staff, with a union-jack flying. We then 
in turn mounted to the top of the ladder to take a 
last look at a view such as we might never see again, 
and bidding adieu to the scene of our toil and 
triumph, descended the ladder to the neck, and 
casting off the guys and hauling-lines, cut off all 
communication with the top. 

In order to save time and avoid danger, we now 
made fast a line, from the neck to the shoulder as 
tight as possible, and hanging on our traps by means 
of rings, launched them one by one from the top, 
and down they flew, making the line smoke. All 
were thus conveyed safely to the shoulder, except 
one unlucky bag, containing a lot of blankets, my 


PETER BOTTE. 


259 


spy-glass, and sundry other articles, which not being 
firmly fixed, broke the preventer-line, and took its 
departure down to Pamplemousses. We at length 
descended and reached the shoulder all safe and 
without any accident, except that of the blankets, 
not a rope-yarn being left to show where we got up. 
We then breakfasted, and after a long and some¬ 
what troublesome descent, got to the low country, 
and drove in Lloyd’s carriage to town, where we 
were most cordially welcomed by all our country¬ 
men, though I believe we were not quite so warmly 
greeted by the French inhabitants, who are now 
constrained to believe that their countrymen alone 
did not achieve the feat, and that the British ensign 
has been the first to wave over the redoubtable Peter 
Botte. 


Lieut. Taylor, 

Royal Geographical Society's Transactions, 


260 


XXIV. 

THE PEAK OF TENEEIFFE. 

ASCENT BY BERTHELOT. 

It was on the 8th of July that I determined to 
climb to the very Peak of Teyde, better known in 
Europe under the name of the Peak of Teneriffe. 
I intended to reach it by the southern slopes; and 
I knew that before me no one had attempted it on 
that side, because the paths which lead to it are 
almost impracticable; but then I thought I might 
possibly find there some plants which had escaped 
the learned researches of Broussonnet, and of Ch. 
Smith; and this hope alone outweighed all the 
obstacles. I was, at this time, at Chasna, a village 
situated in a most picturesque position on the south 
of the peak, and at about 4600 feet above the level 
of the sea, although it was hardly three leagues 
distant from the southern side of the isle. I set 
out from thence at five o’clock in the morning. 



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THE PEAK OF TEXERIFFE. 


261 


with Mr. Macgregor, then English consul at the 
Canaries, and with two guides, who were to accom¬ 
pany us. After two hours’ march, we arrived at 
the base of the central mountains. The pines 
which covered almost all the land that we had 
crossed, gTadually became more rare; and as we 
advanced into the gorge of Oucanca these beautiful 
trees insensibly disappeared, and were replaced by 
viscous brooms. Oucanca is a place which is 
worthy of a visit; a volcanic eruption, accompanied 
no doubt by violent commotions, overthrowing the 
base of the central mountains, gave birth to the 
gorge now existing there. The principal crater, 
which is easily recognised, vomits a torrent of vi¬ 
trified lava' which inundates the neighbouring places, 
and follows its course towards the coast, traversing 
a space of more than two leagues. The wildness 
of this place is still more increased by the enormous 
rocks which seem to have become detached from the 
neighbouring heights. 

Emerging from the gorges of Oucanca, we con¬ 
tinued to ascend the mountain in front of us; the 
white heaths, of which we had already found some 
bushes, then showed themselves in greater number, 
and soon extended so as to form a sort of belt of 
vegetation exclusively round the bases of the peak. 

The place at which we had arrived was called 
Degollada de Oucanca, Teneriffe was in front of 
us; we could already count the torrents of black 
lava which marked its sides; and we could also see 
all the central mountains of Teneriffe. Indeed it 


262 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


is only from tliis point that a view can be obtained 
which embraces the whole group of these volcanic 
summits. This view is most imposing; and no de¬ 
scription can give a just idea of it. These Canadas 
mountains which may probably have once formed a 
perfectly circular chain, present now two great 
passages whose ruinous approaches plainly indicate 
the violent causes which have created them. Their 
high crests rise to more than 9000 feet above the 
level of the ocean ; and all the space enclosed by 
their line of circumvallation round these trachytic 
mountains constitutes one immense crater, whose 
origin was probably prior to that of the peak itself 
which the geologist Escolar called el hijo de las 
Canadas (the son of the Canadas), It is nearly 
in the middle of this elliptical crater, of which the 
greatest diameter is about five leagues, that the 
Peak rises, still smoking, above all this agitated soil. 
The vast circle which surrounds it is known at 
Tenerifie by the name of the gorges of the Peak, 
{Canadas del Teyde, or simply Canadas), 

The path which conducts to the Degollada of 
Oucanca, in the bottom of the gorges, is a very 
rugged one; the opposite slope of the mountain is 
almost perpendicular, and presents, in several places, 
precipices which are more than 900 feet deep. 
When we were descending into the interior of the 
Canadas we could scarcely conceive how we should 
ever arrive there; but at last we succeeded. The 
level of these gorges is about 9000 feet above the 


THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE. 


263 


sea; and the Peak rises about 3000 feet above this 
level. We had, on one side, the vast slopes of the 
great cone, and on the other the chain of mountains 
from which we had descended, and whose almost 
perpendicular side served of old as a division to the 
immense boiling crater. Truly an astonishing spec¬ 
tacle! If in imagination we go back to the ages 
of geological disturbance in which this frightful 
volcano was in all its activity we shall not be able 
to think without horror of that flaming gulf of more 
than nine leagues in circumference, and of 900 feet 
in depth. Yet only thus can we form an idea of 
the state of fermentation of this era of incandescence; 
and the formation of the Peak in the middle of this 
gulf will then appear only a secondary pheno¬ 
menon. 

After having admired these grand volcanic effects, 
and before we proceeded still nearer to the base of 
the Peak, we were obliged to rest ourselves at the 
source of La Piedra, for we were suffocated by the 
heat. In this elevated region, the air is always 
calm and clear, the heavens always of a brilliant 
azure; and the lightest cloud never comes to break 
its uniformity. The intensity of the solar rays in 
these gorges, their reflection from the layers of 
white gravel stone, their dazzling scintillation on 
the fragments of pumice-stone and obsidian, which 
cover the groimd, are so many causes of the high 
temperature. P"rom thence you look down on the 
clouds; and so there are none of those pleasant 


2U 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


mists which in lower regions, from time to time re¬ 
fresh the atmosphere, moisten the earth, and vivify 
the vegetation. The inhabitant of the plains, who 
crosses this belt, soon feels its influence; the ex¬ 
treme dryness of the air closes the pores, stops per¬ 
spiration, and cracks his skin; an immoderate 
thirst ceaselessly torments him, and often he seeks 
in vain for some hidden spring which still could 
only quench his thirst for an instant. It is in vain 
also that to avoid the heat of the sun, he tries to 
take refuge under the bushes of broom or the shadow 
of some rock ; the earth everywhere is burning, 
everywhere the heat is insupportable, everywhere 
there reigns this depressing stillness, and he is 
speedily forced to quit the shelter in which no 
breath of air can be felt. 

The source of La Piedra supplies a deliciously 
cool water, to which the goats that are left to 
wander in these gorges, and the bees whose hives 
are placed in its neighbourhood, come to quench 
their thirst. A quantity of white broom grows near 
it; and indeed this useful shrub is the ornament of 
these Canadas. The goats browse, too, on its 
stems, whilst the bees ceaselessly suck the perfumed 
flowers. So, even in the most desert places. Nature 
seems to have provided for the wants of all. With¬ 
out the broom, which is so abundantly spread over 
this valley, how could these flocks and precious 
swarms subsist ? and yet the latter form one of the 
most important branches of rural economy to the 
inhabitants of the south. 


THE PEAK OF TEXERIFFE. 


265 


We now continued our way along the defile of 
Canada Blanca; and our guides made us after¬ 
wards cross a torrent of lava which was on our right, 
then another, and soon after a third. They call all 
these places which have been invaded by the erup¬ 
tions mal pais (mauvais pays). In proportion to 
the height we attained, did the obstacles seem to 
become more and more insurmountable; and every 
minute we had to scramble over the heaps of scoria, 
or the masses of obsidian, which lay in our way. 
We had marched for more than two hours over this 
terrible ground, when our guides, who had already 
stopped several times to consult together, began to 
appear uncertain as to the road which they ought 
to follow; and very soon one of them came to an¬ 
nounce to us that we had wandered from the right 
way, and that we must give up our enterprise. We 
were not of his mind; we had gone too far to give 
up ; but somehow we felt that we must get out of 
that particular spot, for night was coming on; and 
besides this place, to which our ignorant guides had 
conducted us, was a discouraging one. The lava 
heaped up in blocks surrounded us on every side, and 
further on it appeared to be spread in sheets; so we 
did not know which way to turn. However, at all 
hazards, and by main force we managed to clear a 
way for the unfortunate horse that carried our pro¬ 
visions, and which had almost been killed over and 
over again during this journey. 

We were nearly worn out with fatigue when we 
arrived at the foot of a mountain of pumice, lean- 


2C6 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


ing against the Peak. On getting clear of this 
pumice our shoes and stockings were in rags ; but 
we had already reached one of the slopes of the 
Peak, and we took courage. I knew this place too, 
for it was the way I had gone in 1825 on my first 
expedition. Certain now of wandering no more, 
we pushed on boldly towards La Estancia^ where 
we at length arrived about nine o’clock, in the light 
of a fine moon. 

In spite of the height of this station, we found 
the temperature very supportable; we breathed the 
purest air, and some liglit gusts of north wind 
brought to us the perfume of the broom. Our 
people had no sooner arrived than they collected a 
quantity of the neighbouring bushes, which they 
heaped together and lighted. On this they laid to 
roast an unfortunate goat, which they had killed in 
the Canadas. Soon after supper they grouped 
themselves round the fire; and each fell asleep in 
his place. As for me, I could not do much in that 
way, for the forced march of the day had heated my 
blood; and in such a state of irritation one sleeps 
but ill, especially on rocks. The spectacle beneath 
my eyes was likewise too full of attraction for me; 
the serenity of the heavens, the solitude of the place, 
the strange forms of the rocks heaped around our 
bivouac, and those grand shadows which veiled the 
gorges, out of which we had just come—all these 
things formed an imposing tableau. 

It was three o’clock in the morning when we 
left the place of our bivouac in order to advance 


THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE. 


267 


towards the point of the Peak. The pathway which 
we followed first, although very much inclined, is 
notwithstanding practicable enough; but on ap¬ 
proaching the Altavista, the irregularity of the 
ground became frightful on account of the incum¬ 
brance of the various matters which the volcano had 
vomited; and one could not walk too cautiously 
amidst so many crevasses and roughnesses. After 
having got clear of this mal pais del Teyde, as our 
guides call it, we arrived at the course of La Mam- 
bleta. Everything seemed to point out the exist¬ 
ence in this place of a crater anterior to that of the 
summit of the Peak; for it is from hence that all 
the numerous torrents of lava flowed which have 
inundated the Canadas, The Teyde or Peak must 
have had intervals of rest; and it was probably after 
one of them that a new eruption produced the Peak. 
This volcanic head which has covered up the old 
opening really rises in the midst of La Rambleta ; 
now it crowns the mountain, and the slopes of its 
summit which we saw beneath us, were lighted up 
by the first rays of the rising sun. Sulphureous ex¬ 
halations were already perceptible; and we saw that 
we were near the end of our enterprise; but this 
little cone remained still to be ascended, and its 
height was about 440 feet. The pumice-stones 
and the remains of lava rendered this ascent very 
fatiguing; however, after we had rested and taken 
breath several times we at length reached the 
summit. 

The view which one enjoys at this elevation is 


268 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


perfectly grand; it would be impossible for me to 
give an exact idea of it; to explain the impression 
which this sublime spectacle produced on me would 
be still more difficult. I felt at the same time a sort 
of giddiness and yet of ecstasy: I was dumb with 
admiration. From that culminating point whence 
the eruptions burst forth at 12,000 feet above the 
level of the sea, our view embraced seven islands. On 
the east, the high peaks of the grand Canary pierced 
through the clouds that were gilded by the rays of 
the sun; further on, we discovered Lanzerote and 
Forteventura; on the west, the shadow of Teneriffe 
extended in an immense triangle as far as Gomera; 
and not far off were to be seen Palma and the isle 
of Ferro. Below us lay Teneriffe, with the whole 
circuit of its coasts, the different chains of its 
mountains, its plateaux, and its picturesque valleys. 
Our eyes wandered long over this multitude of 
hollows and risings which the play of the shadows 
showed to us; we could have wished to make out 
all the localities, and to recognise every object; but 
the panorama was too distant for it to be possible to 
seize all its details ; it was but a plan in relief; we 
could not properly appreciate the heights and the 
distances, for from thence even the hills seemed to 
sink under the Peak. We were almost beside our¬ 
selves with admiration at the immensity of this pic¬ 
ture; but the scene soon changed its aspect. As 
the sun advanced in its course, so the vapours rose 
on all sides; gradually we saw condensed masses 
floating about, and white clouds forming them- 


THE PEAK OF TENERIFFE. 


269 


selves over the places where a great quantity of ve¬ 
getation sucked in and constantly reproduced new 
mists. Thus insensibly the whole surface of the 
island became covered, over which we stood as over 
an ocean of clouds. 

Berthelot, 

Bulletin de la Societe de Geographie, 


270 


XXV. 

DISCOVEEY OF AN ANCIENT VOLCANO. 

BY H. DE SAUSSUEE IN 1855 . 

You have often asked me to communicate some de¬ 
tails relating to my journey in Mexico; but until 
the present time I have not found it possible to 
begin the relation of my observations on the geo¬ 
graphy of this interesting country. I shall now 
confine myself to speaking of the discovery of an 
ancient extinct volcano, about which there are re¬ 
markably curious points, worthy of the attention of 
the geographer as well as of the geologist. But when 
I talk of the discovery of this mountain, I do not 
pretend that it had never been visited by any one, 
for the inhabitants of the surrounding district knew 
it very well; but no traveller has ever suspected 
its existence, and even the inhabitants of the Mexi¬ 
can towns are quite in ignorance about it. 

On the south-west of the valley of Mexico, ex¬ 
tends the green province of Michoucan, which with 


DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT VOLCANO. 271 


good reason passes for the garden of Mexico, and 
which unites the advantages of a broken-up soil, 
furrowed by a great number of water-courses, and 
of a temperate climate. When the traveller gets 
into one of these green meadows, after having tra¬ 
velled a long time in the sandy plains of Anahuac 
and the marshes of the basin of Mexico, he expe¬ 
riences a peculiar delight at the sight of these 
wooded hills between which stretch verdant mea¬ 
dows, rivers with their pure, clear waves, and en¬ 
chanting lakes on the bosom of which float islets 
covered with a rich vegetation. In the other dis¬ 
tricts of this country some wild and rugged moun¬ 
tains conceal veins of precious metal which, at the 
present time, are the sole riches of these Spanish 
republics. The most flourishing of these districts 
is that of Angangeo, situated on the confines of the 
State of Mexico. I quitted this locality on the 6th 
of August, 1855, and directed myself to the west 
towards the village of Taximaroa. I had received 
some vague intimation of the existence in this 
region of a great mountain bearing the name of San 
Andres, but I liad some trouble in finding a guide 
who should conduct me to it. 

All the volcanoes of Mexico are easy of access. 
The slope of their sides is so gentle that one can 
ascend on horseback to a considerable height; but 
they are always covered with forests which hide the 
horizon and the summit of the mountain. Every¬ 
where the visual ray is arrested by the trunks of 
venerable trees which seem to dispute the ground, 


272 


MOUNTAIN AD YEN TUBES. 


or whicli lie heaped together in masses of rotten¬ 
ness, where all living nature seems to retire into 
shade from the eye of the passer-by. This vigorous 
and gigantic vegetation, the fruit of a tropical 
climate, and remarkably fertile soil, excites for a 
length of time the imagination of the traveller; but 
all this ends at last in fatigue, and its monotony fills 
the soul with ennui and sadness. Here, however, 
the uniformity is broken by great openings among the 
trees; and the horizontal ground appears to me to 
have belonged to a series of dried-up lakes. The 
mountain of San Andres is, in fact, very distinct. Its 
sides are not uniformly inclined; but they are cut up 
into plains, mounds, and hills, on the mountain itself. 
This vast whole presents a mass of domes and of 
crests, separated by plains and valleys; and it rises 
gradually by stages to the last plateau, on the level 
of which surges up the rounded rock which forms 
the highest point. 

The straight path which conducts from the 
village of Jaripea to the place of the sulphur 
works, sometimes crosses the marshes of the plains, 
sometimes goes down into ravines, in which our 
steps were attended with danger every moment. 
The soil of the mountain is entirely composed of a 
bluish trachyte, crossed by an infinity of very wide 
lines of obsidian, so that, in many places, men and 
horses walk literally over glass. All the neigh¬ 
bouring plains are of much the same character, and 
are besides inundated with basaltic overflowinsfs, 
which have boiled up through a multitude of chinks 
























































































DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT VOLCANO. 273 


with which the ground has been riddled during the 
numerous cataclysms which the incessant volcanic 
shocks have caused. 

After several hours’ march we came out suddenly 
on a pebbly amphitheatre, in which the most curious 
spectacle was presented to our eyes. At the bottom 
of this species of shaft is to be seen a circular pond, 
more than three hundred feet wide, filled with a 
troubled and boiling water, from which escapes a 
cloud of vapour loaded with mephitic gases. All 
the divisions of the amphitheatre are rocks com¬ 
pletely bare of earth or vegetation, softened and 
whitened by the sulphurous vapours with which the 
atmosphere of this gulf is loaded. On these rocks 
are to be seen yellow and red rays, which indicate 
the incessant action of sulphur; and a languishing 
vegetation covers on all sides the edges which are 
perpendicularly cut. This struggle between a bud¬ 
ding vegetation and the noxious emanations •Which 
keep it do-wn, has something sad in it, which renders 
the appearance of these desolate places still more 
wild. The marsh of hot water which occupies the 
lower parts, to judge by the steepness of its edges, 
is of a great depth. Out of it they continually 
draw sulphur mixed with mud, which is used in the 
manufacture of powder, after it has been purified by 
fusion. Some earthen huts and a little building 
for the works have been constructed for this busi¬ 
ness, and at a distance from the lagune, at winch 
less of the ifiephitical exhalations are felt; but such 
is still the influence of the sulphurous vapours at 

T 


274 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


this distance, that it transforms the argillaceous earth 
of which the houses are built into different sul¬ 
phates, principally into alum, so that they actually 
crumble away periodically. This phenomenon is 
one of the most curious that can be seen anywhere. 

We gave the rest of the day to exploring dif¬ 
ferent parts of the mountain, and, guided by two 
Indians, we penetrated into an elevated valley, 
using our hatchets to clear a way for ourselves 
through the thick parts of the forest, the extraor¬ 
dinary vegetation of wliich surpasses in majesty and 
vigour all that I had seen on the mountains of 
Mexico. The ground is strewed with gigantic 
trunks, which are heaped pell-mell under the thick 
foliage of living trees; and when we tried to get 
clear of them by stepping from one to another, they 
crumbled and fell into dust, drawing us in their 
fall down into a bed of ferns and other plants, so 
that we found ourselves in a manner between moun¬ 
tains of decayed substances. 

For about an hour our attention had been at¬ 
tracted by a strange noise, like that of a cataract at 
a distance, when we perceived a great column of 
white smoke, whose curling flakes seemed to be 
thrust out over the summit of the fir-trees which 
cover the flanks of the valley. 

On reaching the place whence the noise pro¬ 
ceeded we were struck by the grandeur of the 
spectacle which it presented. Before us rose a 
whitened slope, which appeared as if (Covered with 
porcelain. 


DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT VOLCANO. 


275 


On the top of this there was a well with an 
opening about six feet across, from whence escaped, 
with a horrible whistling noise, an immense jet of 
vapour, which rose into the air to a considerable 
height. 

At the same time a flood of boiling water over¬ 
flowed from this opening and ran in several streams 
down to the valley. This phenomenon could only 
be compared to that of the Greysers of Iceland; and 
here, as there, the results were the same. The 
waters in their course deposit a quantity of silica, 
and form all around those white rocks whose sub¬ 
stance I have compared to that of porcelain. All 
the stones which these waters moisten are in a state 
of growth. Their surface is soft, like a species of 
paste; and when this becomes solid, it is a sort of 
compact opal. 

San Andres has many other curiosities too. 
Not far from this jet of vapour, and in the same 
valley, there is another hot spring, in the middle of 
divers little basins, which look as if they had been 
cut by the hand of man. But this latter offers 
scarcely any object of interest except that of a 
simple mineral spring, unless it is the high tem¬ 
perature of its waters, which are found to be nearly 
212 °. 

We continued our course through the woods, 
always guided by our Indians, and rising gradually 
up the sides of the valley, but without going beyond 
the circuit of half a league, suddenly we saw open¬ 
ing before us a gulf whose argillaceous and perpen- 


276 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


dicular banks threatened to give way under our 
feet. In the depth of this hole we saw a marsh of 
muddy water, agitated by a violent ebullition. Its 
level first fell, then rose in immense swellings, and 
broke out and fell on all sides in waves of foam. 
Some firs, which the falling of the banks had let 
down were beaten up in this funnel, and agitated 
in the boiling waves of this grey mud, they were 
subjected to a regular cooking operation, and shaken 
about like a vegetable in a pot of boiling water. 
The suddenness with which we came on this spec¬ 
tacle rendered it still more frightful. We fell back, 
seized with fear at the thought that the earth 
might fail under our feet, and that the least im¬ 
prudence would precipitate us into this gulf, where 
a frightful death would be inevitable. 

We could not help comparing this marvellous 
picture to certain fairy scenes which belong to the 
middle ages. If, instead of being placed in the 
bosom of the deserts of America, the mountain 
which we have described, had been found on the 
banks of the Ehine, it would have added more than 
one legend to the Grothic traditions of Germany. 
Is not the kettle of Rubezahl like this caldron of 
the mountain, in which the trees of the forest are 
cooked ? And this dreadful place — if the witches 
of Macbeth lived in it — would it not be a perfect 
picture ? 

It is highly probable that the San Andres has 
many other objects worthy of attention; but the 
impenetrable forests which entirely cover it, pre- 


DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT VOLCANO. 


277 


vent the traveller from exploring it at his ease. 
In another excursion, which I afterwards made be¬ 
yond the sulphur factory, I saw a vast glade, in 
which the ground is occupied by a lake of bitter 
water, fed, no doubt, from subterranean sources. 
Nothing can be more triste than these isolated 
places, where an expanse of brackish water is bor¬ 
dered all around by the venerable trees of a silent 
and monotonous forest, which neither deer nor 
parrots ever come to enliven. It was there that, 
seized by a violent attack of fever, I became inca¬ 
pable of pushing further the exploration of the San 
Andres. I deplored this circumstance the more 
because it rendered it impossible for me to visit the 
peak of the mountain which the. inhabitants call 
the Cerro-G-rande, the altitude of which very sensibly 
passes the limit of arborescent vegetation. They 
even assert that it is not free from perpetual snows; 
but the information which a traveller obtains from 
the natives is too vague to inspire much con¬ 
fidence. 

Letter of M. H. de Saussure to M. de la Ko- 
QUETTE, Bulletin de la Societe de Geographie. 


278 


XXVI. 

THE SILL A OF CARACAS. 

A. DE HUMBOLDT. 

I REMAINED two months at Caracas, where M. Bon- 
pland and I lived in a large house in the most ele¬ 
vated part of the town. From a gallery we could 
survey at once the summit of the Silla, the serrated 
ridge of the Gialipano, and the charming valley of 
the Guayra, the rich culture of which was pleasingly 
contrasted with the gloomy curtain of the surround¬ 
ing mountains. It was in the dry season, and to 
improve the pasturage, the savannahs and the turf 
covering the steepest rocks were set on fire. These 
vast conflagrations, viewed from a distance, produce 
the most singular effects of light. Wherever the 
savannahs, following the undulating slope of the 
rocks, have filled up the furrows hollowed out by 
the water, the flame appears, on a dark night, like 
currents of lava, suspended over the valley. The 
vivid but steady light assumes a reddish tint, when 
the wind, descending from the Silla, accumulates 







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THE SILLA OF CAEACAS. 


279 


streams of vapour in the low regions. At other 
times (and this effect is still more curious) these 
luminous bands, enveloped in thick clouds, appear 
only at intervals when it is clear; and as the clouds 
ascend, their edges reflect a splendid light. These 
various phenomena, so common in the tropics, ac¬ 
quire additional interest from the form of the moun¬ 
tains, the direction of the slopes, and the height of 
the savannahs covered with Alpine grasses. During 
the day the wind of Petare, blowing from the east, 
drives the smoke towards the town, and diminishes 
the transparency of the air. 

In a country abounding in such magnificent 
scenery, and at a period when, notwithstanding 
some symptoms of popular commotion, most of the 
inhabitants seem only to direct their attention to 
physical objects, such as the fertility of the year, the 
long drought, or the conflicting winds of Petare and 
Catia, I expected to find many individuals well 
acquainted with the lofty surrounding mountains. 
But I was disappointed; and we could not find in 
Caracas a single individual who had visited the sum¬ 
mit of the Silla. Hunters do not ascend so high on 
the ridges of mountains, and in these countries jour¬ 
neys are not undertaken for such purposes as gather¬ 
ing Alpine plants, carrying a barometer to an elevated 
point, or examining the nature of rocks. Accus¬ 
tomed to a uniform and domestic life, the people 
dread fatigue and sudden changes of climate. They 
seem to live not to enjoy life, but only to prolong 
it. 


280 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


Our walks led us often in the direction of two 
coffee-plantations, the proprietors of which, Don 
Andres de Ibarra and M. Blandin, were men of agree¬ 
able manners. These plantations were situated 
opposite the Silla de Caracas. Surveying, by a tele¬ 
scope, the steep declivity of the mountain, and the 
form of the two peaks by which it is terminated, we 
could form an idea of the difficulties we should have 
to encounter on reaching its summit. Angles of 
elevation, taken with the sextant at our house, had 
led me to believe that the summit was not so high 
above sea-level as the great square of Quito. This 
estimate was far from corresponding with the notions 
entertained by the inhabitants of the city Moun¬ 
tains which command great towns, have acquired, 
from that very circumstance, an extraordinary cele¬ 
brity in both continents. Long before they have 
been accurately measured, a conventional height is 
assigned to them, and to entertain the least doubt 
respecting that height is to wound national prejudice. 
The Captain-Greneral, Sehor de Gruevara, directed the 
teniente of Chacao to furnish us with guides to con¬ 
duct us on our ascent of the Silla. These guides 
were Negroes, and they knew something of the path 
leading over the ridge of the mountain, near the 
western peak of the Silla. This path is frequented 
by smugglers, but neither the guides nor the most 
experienced of the militia, accustomed to pursue the 
smugglers in these wild spots, had been on the 
eastern peak, forming the most elevated summit of 
the Silla. 


THE SILLA OF CARACAS. 


281 


During the whole month of December the moun¬ 
tain (of which the angles of elevation made me 
acquainted with the effects of the terrestrial re¬ 
fraction) had appeared only five times free of clouds. 
In this season of the year two serene days seldom 
succeed each other, and we were therefore advised 
not to choose a clear day for our excursion, but 
rather a time when, the clouds not being elevated, 
we might hope, after having crossed the first layer 
of vapours uniformly spread, to enter into dry and 
transparent air. We passed the night of the 2nd of 
January in the Estancia de Gallegos, a plantation of 
coffee-trees, near which the little river of Chacaito, 
flowing in a luxuriantly shaded ravine, forms some 
fine cascades in descending the mountains. The 
night was pretty clear, and though on the day pre¬ 
ceding a fatiguing journey, it might have been well 
to have enjoyed some repose, M. Bonpland and I 
passed the whole night in watching three occultations 
of the satellites of Jupiter. I had previously deter¬ 
mined the instant of the observations, but we missed 
them all, owing to some error of calculation in the 
Connaissance des Temps, The apparent time had 
been mistaken for mean time. 

I was much disappointed by this accident, and 
after having observed at the foot of the mountain 
the intensity of the magnetic forces before sunrise, 
we set out at five in the morning, accompanied by 
slaves carrying our instruments. Our party consisted 
of eighteen persons, and we all walked one behind 


282 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


another, in a narrow path, traced on a steep declivity 
covered with turf. We endeavoured first to reach 
a hill, which towards the south-east seems to form a 
promontory of the Silla. It is connected with the 
body of the mountain by a narrow dyke, called by 
the shepherds the Grate, or Puerta de la Silla. We 
reached this dyke about seven. The morning was 
fine and cool, and the sky then seemed to favour 
our excursion. I saw that the thermometer kept 
a little below 57°. The barometer showed that 
we were already 685 fathoms above the level of 
the sea—that is, nearly 80 fathoms higher than at 
the Venta, where we enjoyed so magnificent a view 
of the coast. Our guides thought that it would 
require six hours more to reach the summit of the 
Silla. 

We crossed a narrow dyke of rocks, covered with 
turf, which led us from the promontory of the Puerta 
to the ridge of the great mountain. Here the eye 
looks down on two valleys, or rather narrow defiles, 
filled with thick vegetation. On the right is per¬ 
ceived the ravine which descends between the two 
peaks to the farm of Munoz; on the left we saw the 
defile of Chacaito, with its waters flowing out near 
the farm of Gallegos. The roaring of the cascades 
is heard, while the water is unseen, being concealed 
by thick groves of erythrina, clusia, and the Indian 
fig-tree. Nothing can be more picturesque in a 
climate where so many plants have broad, large, 
shining, and coriaceous leaves, than the aspect of 


THE SILLA OF CARACAS. 


283 


trees when the spectator looks down from a great 
height above them, and when they are illumined by 
the almost perpendicular rays of the sun. 

From the Puerta de la Silla the steepness of the 
ascent increases, and we were obliged to incline our 
bodies considerably forward as we advanced. The 
slope is often from 30° to 32°. We felt the waut 
of cramp-irons, or sticks shod with iron. Short 
grass covered the rocks of gneiss, and it was equally 
impossible to hold by the grass, or to form steps, as 
we might have done in softer ground. This ascent, 
which was attended with more fatigue than danger, 
discouraged those who accompanied us from the 
town, and who were unaccustomed to climb moun¬ 
tains. We lost a great deal of time in waiting for 
them, and we did not resolve to proceed alone till we 
saw them descending the mountain instead of climb¬ 
ing up it. The weather was becoming cloudy ; the 
mist already issued in the form of smoke, and in 
slender and perpendicular streaks, from a small, 
luminous wood which bordered the region of Alpine 
savannahs. It seemed as if a fire had burst forth at 
once on several points of the forest. These streaks 
of vapour gradually accumulated together, and rising 
above the ground, were carried along by the morn¬ 
ing breeze, and glided like a light cloud over the 
rounded summit of the mountain. M. Bonpland 
and I foresaw from these infallible signs that we 
should soon be covered by a thick fog, and lest our 
guides should take advantage of this circumstance 


284 


MOliNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


and leave us, we obliged those who carried the most 
necessary instruments to precede us; we continued 
climbing the slopes which lead towards the ravine of 
Chacaito. . . . 

The eastern peak is the most elevated of the two 
which form the summit of the mountain, and to this 
we directed our course with our instruments. The 
hollow between the two peaks has suggested the 
Spanish name of Silla (saddle), which is given to 
the whole mountain. ... We were sometimes so 
enveloped in mist that we could with difficulty 
find our way. At this height there is no path, 
and we were obliged to climb with our hands 
when our feet failed us, on the steep and slippery 
declivity. 

After proceeding for the space of four hours 
across the savannahs, we entered a little wood com¬ 
posed of shrubs and small trees, called el Pejual. 
We spent a long time in examining the fine resinous 
and fragrant plants of the Pejual. Quitting the 
little thicket of Alpine plants, we found ourselves 
again in a savannah. We climbed over a part of 
the western dome, in order to descend into the hollow 
of the Silla, a valley which separates the two sum¬ 
mits of the mountain. We there had great diffi¬ 
culties to overcome, occasionally by the force of the 
vegetation. 

Wandering in this thick wood of musaceae or 
arborescent plants, we constantly directed our course 
towards the eastern peak, which we perceived from 


THE SILLA OF CARACAS. 


285 


time to time through an opening. On a sudden we 
found ourselves again enveloped in a dense mist; 
the compass alone could guide us, but in advancing 
northward we were in danger at every step of finding 
ourselves on the brink of that enormous wall of rocks 
which descends almost perpendicularly to the depth of 
six thousand feet towards the sea. We were obliged to 
halt. Surrounded by clouds sweeping the ground, 
we began to doubt whether we should reach the 
eastern peak before night. Happily, the Negroes 
who carried our water and provisions soon reached 
us, and we resolved to take some refreshment. 

We were three quarters of an hour in reach¬ 
ing the summit of the pyramid. Having arrived 
there, we enjoyed for a few minutes only the se¬ 
renity of the sky. We were at thirteen hundred 
and fifty fathoms of elevation. We gazed on an 
extent of sea, the radius of which was thirty-six 
leagues. 

It was half-past four when we finished our ob¬ 
servations. Satisfied with the success of our journey, 
we forgot that there might be danger in descending 
in the dark steep declivities covered by a smooth 
and slippery turf. The mist concealed the valley 
from us, but we distinguished the double hill of La 
Puerta, which, like all objects lying almost per¬ 
pendicularly beneath the eye, appeared extremely 
near. We relinquished our design of passing the 
night between the two summits of the Silla, and 
having again found the path we had cut through 


286 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


the thick wood of the heliconia, we soon arrived at 
Pejual, the region of odoriferous and resinous 
plants. 

As there is scarcely any twilight in the tropics, 
we pass suddenly from bright daylight to darkness. 



Bridge iii the Cordilleras. 


The moon was on the horizon, but her disk was 
veiled from time to time by thick clouds, drifted by 
a cold and rough wind. Eapid slopes, covered with 
yellow and dry grass, now seen in shade, and now 
suddenly illumined, seemed like precipices, the 
depth of which the eye sought in vain to measure. 
We proceeded onwards in single file, and endea¬ 
voured to support ourselves by our hands, lest we 
should roll down. The guides, who carried our in¬ 
struments, abandoned us successively, to sleep on 
the mountain. Among those who remained with 


THE SILLA OF CARACAS. 


287 


us was a Congo black, who evinced great address, 
bearing on his head a large dipping-needle : he held 
it constantly steady, notwithstanding the extreme 
declivity of the rocks. The fog had dispersed by 
degrees in the bottom of the valley, and the scattered 
lights we perceived below us caused a double illu¬ 
sion. The steeps appeared still more dangerous 
than they really were ; and during six hours of con¬ 
tinued descent we seemed to be always equally near 
the farms at the foot of the Silla. We heard very 
distinctly the voices of men and the notes of guitars. 
Sound is generally so well propagated upwards, that 
in a balloon at the elevation of 18,000 feet the 
barking: of dogfs is sometimes heard. 

We did not arrive till ten at night at the bottom 
of the valley. 

A. DE Humboldt, Voyages aux regions equi~ 
noxiales du nouveau Continent, 


288 


XXVII. 


CHIMBOKAZO. 

ASCENT BY BOUSSINGAULT. 

Eiobamba is perhaps the most singular diorama in 
the world. The town presents nothing remarkable 
in itself; hut it is placed on one of the sterile 
plateaux so common in the Andes, which, at this 
great elevation, have all of them a chamcteristic 
appearance of winter, which impresses the traveller 
with a feeling of sadness. In order to reach it he 
has to pass through very picturesque places; and 
this increases the depression produced by the change; 
for it is always with regret that one leaves the 
climate of the tropics for the frosts of the north. 

From the house where I lived I could look over 
Capac-Urcu, Tunguragna, Cubille, Carguairazo, and 
lastly, to the north, Chimborazo; besides several 
other celebrated mountains of the Paramos, which, 
though they have not the honour of perpetual snow, 
are still none the less worthy of the attention of the 
geologist. 


flHIMBORAZO. 


289 


This vast amphitheatre, which bounds on all sides 
the horizon of Riobamba, is the scene of continually 
varied phenomena. It is curious to observe the 
different appearances of these glaciers at different 
hours of the day; and to see their apparent heights, 
varying from one moment to another, from the effect 
of atmospheric refractions; and it is with great 
interest that one sees produced in a space so circum¬ 
scribed all the great phenomena of meteorology. 
Here it is one of those clouds that He Saussure has 
so well described as parasitical clouds, which has 
just attached itself to the middle part of a cone of 
trachyte: it sticks to it; and the wind, though 
blowing strongly, cannot move it. Soon the thunder 
bursts from this mass of vapour; hail mingled with 
rain inundates the lower part of the mountain, 
whilst its snowy summit, which the storm has not 
yet reached, is vividly lighted up - by the sun. 
Further on, it is a sharp peak of ice resplendent 
with light; it stands out against the azure of the 
heavens, and all its forms may be distinguished even 
to the minutiae; the atmosphere is remarkably clear, 
and yet this peak is covered with a cloud which 
seems to emanate from its own bosom, so that one 
might imagine it to have come out of smoke. Tliis 
cloud is already become a light vapour, and soon it 
disappears altogether. But soon also it reproduces 
itself just to disappear again. This intermittent 
formation of the clouds is a very frequent pheno¬ 
menon on the summits of mountains covered with 
snow. It is chiefly observable in serene weather. 


290 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


always some hours after the culmination of the sun. 
In these conditions the glaciers may be compared 
to condensers thrust up towards the high regions 
of the atmosphere, in order to dry up the water by 
freezing it, and to bring back in this way to the 
surface of the earth the water which they find in a 
state of vapour. 

These plateaux, surrounded by glaciers, some¬ 
times present the most lugubrious aspect, when a 
continued wind brings to them the humid air of the 
hot regions. The mountains become invisible, and 
the horizon is masked by a line of clouds which 
seem to touch the earth. The day is cold and 
damp,— this mass of vapour being almost impene¬ 
trable to the solar light. It is a long twilight, the 
only one which is known in the tropics; for in 
the equatorial zone the night succeeds suddenly to 
day, so that the sun seems to become extinguished 
in setting. 

I could not better finish my researches on the 
trachytes of the Cordilleras than by a special study 
of Chimborazo. In order to do so, it was certainly 
sufficient to approach its base; but what made me 
go beyond the snowy boundary—what made me 
determine on the ascent—was the hope of obtaining 
the mean temperature of an extremely elevated 
station. And, although this hope was frustrated, 
my excursion, I hope, was not without its use with 
regard to science. 

My friend. Colonel Hall, who had already ac¬ 
companied me up Antisana and Cotopaxi, wished 






























































































































































































































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CHIMBORAZO. 


291 


again to go with me on this expedition, in order to 
;add to the knowledge which he already possessed of 
the topography of Quito, and to continue his 
researches on the geography of plants. 

P'rom Riobamba, Chimborazo presents two slopes 
of very different inclinations. The one which looks 
towards the Arenal is very abrupt; and there are to be 
seen coming out from under the ice numerous points 
of trachyte. The other, towards the place called 
Chillapullu, not far from Mocha, is, on the contrary, 
little inclined, but of a considerable extent. After 
having well examined the environs of the moun¬ 
tains, it was by this slope that we resolved to attack 
it. On the 14th of December, 1831, we went to 
lodge at the farm of the Chimborazo, where we 
found dry straw to lie on, and some sheep-skins to 
keep us from the cold. The farm stands on an 
elevation of 12,350, so that the nights are cool there; 
and as a resting place, it is not agreeable, because 
wood is scarce. We were already in the region of 
graminaceous plants, which has to be crossed before 
the region of perpetual snow is reached; there all 
ligneous vegetation ends. 

On the 15th, at seven in the morning, we put 
ourselves en route, guided by an Indian from the 
farm. We followed, in ascending, a rivulet enclosed 
between two walls of trachyte, whose waters descend 
from the glacier; but very soon we quitted this 
crevasse, in order to direct our steps towards Mocha, 
going along the base of Chimborazo. We rose 
insensibly; and our mules walked with trouble and 


292 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


difficulty througli the debris of rock which has accu¬ 
mulated on the foot of the mountain. The slope 
then became very rapid, the ground was unstable, 
and the mules stopped almost at every step to make 
a long pause; they no longer obeyed the spur. The 
breathing of the animals was hurried and panting. 
We were then precisely at the height of Mont Blanc, 
for the barometer indicated an elevation of 15,626 
feet above the level of the sea. 

After we had covered our faces with masks of 
light gauze, in order to preserve ourselves from 
accidents such as we had met with on the Antisana, 
we began to ascend a ridge which abutted on a 
very elevated point of the glacier. It was midday. 
We went up slowly ; and, as we got further and 
further on to the snow, the difficulty of breathing in 
walking became more and more felt; but we easily 
regained our strength by stopping at every eight or 
ten steps without always sitting down. As we went 
on, we felt extreme fatigue from the want of con¬ 
sistency in a snowy soil, which continually gave way 
under our feet, and in which we sank sometimes up 
to the waist. In spite of all our efforts, we were 
soon convinced of the impossibility of advancing; 
in fact, a little farther on the shifting snow was more 
than four feet deep. We went to rest on a block 
of trachyte, which resembled an island in the midst 
of a sea of snow. The height noted down was 
16,623 feet; so that, after much fatigue, we had only 
reached 997 feet higher than the place where we 
set out. 


CHIMBORAZO. 


293 


At six o’clock, we were back at the farm. The 
weather had been splendid, and Chimborazo had 
never appeared to us so magnificent; but, after our 
fruitless journey, we could not help looking at it 
with a feeling of spite. We were determined to 
attempt the ascent by the abrupt side; that is to 
say, by the slope which looks towards the Arenal. 
We knew that it was on this side that Hum¬ 
boldt had ascended this mountain; for they had 
pointed out to us at Riobamba the point to which 
he had reached ; but ^ was impossible for us to 
obtain exact information as to tlie route which he 
had followed to get there, for the Indians who had 
accompanied that intrepid traveller were no longer 
living. 

At seven o’clock the next day we took the road 
towards the Arenal. The’ sky was remarkably pure. 
On the east we perceived the famous volcano of 
Sangay, in the province of Macas, which, nearly a 
century before. La Condamine had seen in a state of 
permanent incandescence. In proportion as we 
advanced, the land rose sensibly. In general the 
trachytic plateau which supports the isolated peaks 
with which the Andes are, as it were, bristling, rise 
gradually to the base of these same peaks. The 
numerous and deep crevasses which furrow these 
plateaux seem all to start from a common centre; 
they become narrower as they get away from this 
centre. We could only compare them to the lines 
on the surface of a cracked glass. 

We were at a height of 16,071 feet when we 


294 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


took to journeying on foot. The ground had be¬ 
come altogether impracticable for the, mules; and, 
besides, those animals, whose instinct is extraor¬ 
dinary, tried to make us understand the great fa¬ 
tigue which they felt; their ears, usually so straight 
and attentive, were quite drooping, and, during the 
frequent halts which they made for breath, they 
never ceased looking towards the plain. Few riders 
have probably taken their steeds to such a height; 
and to travel on the back of mules, over a moving 
soil beyond the limits of the snow, requires, perhaps, 
several years’ experience in riding in the Andes. 

After having examined the locality in which we 
were, we saw that in order to gain a ridge which 
ascended towards the summit of Chimborazo, we 
must first climb an excessively steep ascent just in 
front of us. It was formed in great part of blocks 
of rock of all sizes, disposed in slopes. Here and 
there these fragments of trachyte were covered by 
sheets of ice more or less extensive, and in several 
points you could clearly see that these debris of rock 
lay over the hardened snow. They proceeded con¬ 
sequently from the recent falls which had taken 
place in the upper part of the mountain. These 
falls are frequent, and in the midst of the glaciers of 
the Cordilleras what one has most to fear are the 
avalanches in which there are really more stones 
than snow. 

At eleven o’clock we finished crossing a very 
extended sheet of ice on which we had been obliged 
to cut notches in order to make sure of our steps. 


CHIMBORAZO. 


295 


This passage was not without danger, for a slide 
might have cost us our lives. We entered then afresh 
on the debris of trachyte, which was firm earth to 
us, and from that time we were able to ascend more 
rapidly. We marched along in a file, I first, then 
Col. Hall, and my Negro last. He followed my steps 
exactly, in order not to endanger the safety of the 
instruments which were intrusted to liim. We kept 
an absolute silence during our march, experience 
having taught me that nothing exhausts so much as 
a sustained conversation at this height; and during 
our halts, if we exchanged a few words, it was in a 
low voice. It is, in a great measure, to this pre¬ 
caution that I attribute the state of health which I 
liave constantly enjoyed during my ascents up vol¬ 
canoes. And this precaution I imposed, so to speak, 
in a despotic manner on those who accompanied me ; 
for, on the Antisana, an Indian who neglected it, 
and called with all the strength of his lungs to Col. 
Hall, who had lost his way as we were passing 
til rough a cloud, was attacked with giddiness and 
hemorrhage. 

We had now reached the ridge at which we were 
aiming. It was not what we had thought it from a 
distance, for, in fact, there was little snow on it; but 
then its sides were so steep that they were very diffi¬ 
cult to climb. We were obliged to make almost 
unheard-of efforts, and such gymnastics are painful 
in these aerial regions. At last we arrived, at the 
foot of a perpendicular wall of trachyte which was 
many hundred feet in height. There was a visible 


296 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


feeling of discouragement in the expedition when 
the barometer told us that we were only at a height 
of 18,460 feet. This was little for us, for it was 
not even the height to which we had attained 
on Cotopaxi. Besides, Humboldt had ascended 
higher on Chimborazo; and we wished at least to 
attain the point at which that learned traveller had 
stopped. Explorers of mountains when they are 
discouraged are always very much disposed to sit 
down, and that is what we did on the Pena-Colorada 
(Eed Eock). It was the first rest sitting that we 
had allowed ourselves ; and as we were all excessively 
thirsty our first occupation was to suck some icicles 
in order to quench this thirst. 

It was a quarter to one p.m., and yet we felt 
quite cold enough, and the thermometer was down 
to 31°. We then found ourselves enveloped in a 
cloud. When this had disappeared we examined 
our situation. Looking towards the red rock, we 
liad on the right a frightful abyss; on the left, 
towards the Arenal, we could distinguish an ad¬ 
vanced rock, which looked like a turret. It was 
important to reach this in order to see if we could 
turn the red rock, and to ascertain at the same time 
if it were possible to continue our ascent. Access 
to this turret was difficult, but I managed it with 
the assistance of m}^ two companions. I saw then 
that if we succeeded in climbing over a very inclined 
surface, covered with snow, which leant against one 
face of this red rock opposite to the side by which 
we had reached it, we should attain a very consider- 


CHBIBORAZO. 


297 


able elevation. And in order to get a clear idea of 
the topography of Chimborazo, let any one picture 
to himself an immense rock, sustained on all sides 
by such props, which from the plain seem to lean 
against this enormous block in order to shore it up. 

Before undertaking this dangerous passage, I 
ordered my Negro to go and try the snow. It was 
of a convenient consistency. Hall and the Negro 
succeeded in turning the foot of the position which 
I occupied, and I joined them when they were suffi¬ 
ciently firmly planted to receive me, for in order to 
rejoin them it was necessary to slide down about 25 
feet of ice. At the moment of setting forward, a 
stone detached itself from the top of the mountain, 
and fell quite close to Col. Hall. He tottered and 
fell; I thought him wounded, and was only re¬ 
assured when I saw him get up and examine with 
his magnifying glass the sample of rock which was 
so roughly submitted to our investigation ; the un¬ 
lucky trachyte was of the same kind as that on 
which we were walking. 

We advanced carefully; on the right we could 
support ourselves on the rock, on the left the de¬ 
clivity was frightful, and before going forward we 
began by familiarising ourselves with the precipice. 
This is a precaution which should never be neglected 
in the mountains, whenever a dangerous place has 
to be passed. I)e Saussure said so long ago, but it 
cannot be repeated too often ; and in my adven¬ 
turous journeys among the peaks of the Andes I have 
never lost sight of this wise precept. 


298 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


We began already to feel more than we had yet 
done the effect of the rarefaction of the air; we 
were obliged to stop ever}^ two or three steps, and 
often even to lie down for two or three seconds. 
Once seated we were all right again; our suffering 
was only during the time that we were in motion. 
But the snow itself soon rendered our progress as 
slow as it was dangerous. It was only soft for about 
three or four inches, and below was a very hard 
and slippery ice, in which we were obliged to cut 
notches. The Negro went before in order to make 
these steps, and the labour exhausted him in a 
moment. I went forward to relieve him, and slid; 
but happily for me, Hall and my Negro held me up. 
However, for an instant we were all in imminent 
danger. This incident made us hesitate a moment, 
but taking new courage, we resolved to go on ; the 
snow became more favourable; we made a last effort, 
and in an hour and three quarters we were on the 
desired ridge. There, we were convinced that it 
was impossible to do more, being now at the foot of 
a prism of trachyte, of which the upper basis, 
covered with a cupola of snow, forms the summit of 
Chimborazo. 

The ridge at which we had arrived was only 
some feet in width. On all sides we were environed 
with precipices, and surrounded by the strangest 
sights. The deep colour of the rock contrasted in 
the most striking manner with the dazzling white¬ 
ness of the snow. Long stalagmites of ice appeared 
suspended over our heads, so that one might have 


CHIMBORAZO. 


299 


thought that a magnificent cascade had frozen there. 
The weather was beautiful, some light clouds only 
being visible on the west; the air was quite calm, so 
that tlie view was very extensive; the situation was 
new, and we felt a lively satisfaction in it. We 
were at a height of 19,513 feet, which is, I believe, 
the greatest height to which men have ever 
climbed. 

After some moments’ repose, we found ourselves 
entirely recovered from our fatigues, and neither of 
us experienced those uncomfortable sensations which 
most persons who have ascended high mountains 
have done. Three-quarters of an hour after our 
arrival my pulse, and also Col. Hall’s, beat 106 in 
a minute; we were thirsty, and evidently under a 
slightly feverish influence ; but it was not a painful 
state. My friend was very gay, and constantly 
saying the most piquant things, notwitlistanding 
that he was occupied in drawing the view that lay 
beneath us. All sounds seemed to me, however, 
thinned in a remarkable manner, and the voices of 
my companions were so much changed that under 
any other circumstances it would have been im¬ 
possible to recognise them. The slight noise which 
the blows of my hammer on the rock made also 
surprised us very much. 

The rarefaction of the air generally produces 
very marked results on climbers. On the summit 
of Mont Blanc, De Saussure felt an uneasiness and a 
disposition to sickness; and his guides, who were 
all inhabitants of Chamounix, experienced the same 


300 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


sensations. This state of uneasiness increased also 
.when he made any movement, or when he fixed his 
attention on any observations which he was making. 
The first Spaniards who went over the high moun¬ 
tains of America were attacked, according to the 
account of Acosta, by nausea and stomach com¬ 
plaints. Bouguer had several attacks of hemor¬ 
rhage in the Cordilleras of Quito; the same thing 
happened on Monte Eosa to M. Zumstein; and 
lastly, on Chimborazo, MM. de Humboldt and Bon- 
pland, at the time of their ascent of the 23rd of 
June, 1802, felt a disposition to vomit, and the 
blood came out of their lips and of their gums. As 
for ourselves, we had, certainly, found a difficulty in 
breathing, and an extreme lassitude as we ascended ; 
but these inconveniences ceased with the movement. 
Once at rest, and we believed ourselves to be in our 
normal state ; perhaps we must attribute our insen¬ 
sibility to the effects of rarefied air, to our prolonged 
stay in the high towns of the Andes. When one 
has seen the activity which there is in towns like 
Bogota, Micuipampa, Potosi, &c., which are at from 
8000 to 12,000 feet above the sea, when one has been 
witness of the strength and prodigious agility of tlie 
toreadors in a bull-fight at Quito, which is at a 
height of more than 9000 feet; when one has seen, 
lastly, young and delicate women give themselves 
up to dancing during entire nights in localities almost 
as elevated as Mont Blanc, where the celebrated De 
Saussure found hardly enough strength to consult 
his instruments, and where his vigorous moun- 


CHIMBORAZO. 


301 


taineers fell exhausted whilst digging a hole in the 
snow; if, I must add, a celebrated battle, that of 
Pichincha, was fought at a height differing little from 
that of Mont Blanc, it will be granted, I think, that 
man may become accustomed to breathe the rarefied 
air of the highest mountains. 

Whilst we were occupied in making our obser¬ 
vations on Chimborazo the weather continued fine, 
and the sun was so hot as slightly to incommode us. 
Towards three o’clock we perceived some clouds 
forming below in the plain ; the thunder soon began 
to growl below our position, and though the noise 
was not loud, it was prolonged; we thought at first 
that it was a hramido, or subterranean rumbling. 
Dark clouds then gathered round the base of the 
mountain, and they slowly rose towards us. So we 
had no time to lose, for it was essential that we 
should pass the bad places before we were overtaken, 
as otherwise we should run into the greatest dangers. 
A heavy fall of snow, or a frost which should render 
the way slippery, would suffice to hinder our retura, 
and we had no provision for a stay on the glacier. 

The descent was difficult. After we had got 
down from 900 to 1200 feet, we penetrated into 
clouds, by entering them from above : a little lower, 
hail began to fall, which considerably chilled the 
air, and at the moment at which we met the Indian 
who took care of our mules, the cloud broke over us 
in hail that was so large as to be quite painful when 
the hailstones struck either our heads or faces. 

In proportion as we descended an icy rain was 


302 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


mixed with the hail. Night surprised us on the 
road; and it was eight o’clock when we reached the 
farm. 

The observations which I was able to collect 
luring this excursion tend all of them to confirm 
aiy ideas on the nature of the trachyte mountains 
which form the chain of the Cordilleras ; for I have 
seen repeated on Chimborazo all the facts which I 
have noticed in treating of the volcanoes of the 
equator. It is evidently itself an extinct volcano, 
like Cotopaxi, Antisana, Tunguragua, and in ge¬ 
neral the mountains which stand thickly on the 
plateaux of the Andes. The mass of Chimborazo is 
formed by the accumulation of trachytic debris, 
heaped together without any order. These frag¬ 
ments, of a size which is often enormous, have been 
thrown together in a solid state; their angles are 
always sharp, and nothing indicates that there has 
been any fusion, or even a simple state of softness. 
Nowhere in any of the volcanoes of the equator does 
one observe anything which would lead one to pre¬ 
sume that there had been a flow of lava; nothing 
but muddy, elastic fluids, or incandescent blocks of 
trachyte, more or less solid, have come out of these 
craters, and these have often been thrown to con¬ 
siderable distances. 

On the 23rd of December, in the afternoon, I 
quitted Kiobamba, directing my course towards 
G-uayaquil, where I was to embark in order to visit 
the coast of Peru. It was in sight of Chimborazo 
that I separated from Col. Hall. During my stay 





J'HK COkDIIJ KkAS, IM.kU. 











































































































CHIMBORAZO. 


303 


in the province of Quito I had enjoyed his con¬ 
fidence and his friendship; his perfect acquaintance 
with the localities had been of the greatest use to 
me, and I had found in him an excellent and in¬ 
defatigable travelling companion; and lastly, both 
of us had served for a long time in the cause of 
independence. Our farewells were full of regret, 
and something seemed to tell us that we should 
never meet again. This fatal presentiment was but 
too well founded, for some months afterwards my 
unhappy friend was assassinated in a street of 
Quito. 

Boussingault, 

Voyages aux Volcans de VEquateur, 


304 


XXVIII. 

DISCOVERY OF PERUVIAN BARK. 

The whole world, and especially all tropical countries 
where intermittent fevers prevail, have long been 
indebted to the mountainous forests of the Andes for 
that inestimable febrifuge which has now become 
indispensable, and the demand for which is rapidly 
increasing, while the supply decreases throughout all 
civilised countries. There is probably no drug 
which is more valuable to man than the febrifugal 
alkaloid which is extracted from the chinchona-trees 
of South America; and few greater blessings could 
be conferred on the human race than the naturaliza¬ 
tion of these trees in India and other congenial 
regions, so as to render the supply more certain, 
cheaper, and more abundant. 

It would be strange, indeed, if, as is generally 
supposed, the Indian aborigines of South America 
were ignorant of the virtues of Peruvian bark, yet 
the absence of this sovereign remedy in the wallets 
of itinerant native doctors who have plied their 


DISCOVERY OF PERUVIAN BARK. 


305 - 


trade from father to son since the time of the Incas, 
certainly gives some countenance to this idea. It 
seems probable, nevertheless, that the Indians were 
aware of the virtues of Peruvian bark in the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Loxa, 230 miles south of Quito, where 
its use was first made known to Europeans, and the 
Indian name for the tree quina quina, ‘ bark of 
bark,’ indicates that it was believed to possess some 
special medicinal properties. The Indians looked 
upon their conquerors with dislike and suspicion ; it 
is improbable that they would be quick to impart 
knowledge of this nature to them; and the interval 
which elapsed between the discovery and settlement 
of the country and the first use of Peruvian bark by 
Europeans may thus easily be explained. 

It may be added, however, that though the 
Indians were aware of the febrifugal qualities of 
this bark, they attached little importance to them— 
they think that the cold North alone permits the 
use of fever-bark, consider it very heating, and 
therefore an unfit remedy in complaints which they 
believe to arise from inflammation of the blood. . . . 

In about 1630 Don Juan Lopez de Canizares, 
the Spanish Corregidor of Loxa, being ill of an in¬ 
termittent fever, an Indian of Malacotas is said to 
have revealed to him the healing virtues of quin¬ 
quina-bark, and to have instructed him in the 
proper way to administer it, and thus his cure was 
effected. 

In 1638 the wife of Luis Greronimo Fernandez 
de Cabrera Bobadilla y Mendoza, fourth Count of 

X 


306 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUEES. 


Chinchon, lay sick of an intermittent fever in the 
palace at Lima. Her famous cure induced Linneus, 
long afterwards, to name the whole genus of quinine 
yielding trees in her honour, ‘ Chinchona.’ 

The Count of Chinchon returned to Spain in 1640, 
and his Countess, bringing with her a quantity of 
the healing bark, was the first person to introduce 
this invaluable medicine into Europe. . . . After the 
cure of the Countess of Chincha, the Jesuits were the 
great promoters of the introduction of the bark into 
Europe. ... In 1670 the Jesuit missionaries sent 
parcels of the powdered bark to Eome, whence it 
was distributed to members of the fraternity through¬ 
out Europe by the Cardinal de Lugo, and used for 
the cure of agues with great success. Hence the 
name of ^ Jesuit’s bark,’ and ‘ Cardinal’s bark ;’ and 
it was a ludicrous result of its patronage by the 
Jesuits that its use should have been for a lono^ time 
opposed by Protestants and favoured by Koman 
Catholics. In 1679 Louis XIV. bought the secret 
of preparing quinquina from Sir Robert Taylor, an 
English doctor, for two thousand louis-d’ors, a 
large pension, and a title. From that time Peruvian 
bark seems to have been recognised as the most 
efficacious remedy for intermittent fevers. . . . 

The region of chinchona-trees extends from 19° 
S. lat. to 10° X., following the almost semicircular 
curve of the Cordillera of the Andes on 1740 miles 
of latitude. They flourish in a cool and equable tem¬ 
perature on the slopes, and in the valleys and ravines 
of the mountains, and surrounded by the most ma- 


DISCOVERY OF PERUVIAN BARK. 


307 


jestic scenery, never descending below an elevation 
of 2500, and ascending as high as 9000 feet above 
the sea. Within these limits their usual companions 
are tree-ferns, melastomaceae, arborescent passion¬ 
flowers, and allied genera of chinchonaceous. plants. 
Below them are the forests, abounding in palms and 
bamboos; above their highest limits are a few lonely 
Alpine shrubs. 

But within this wide zone grow many species of 
chinchona, and within its own narrower belts as 
regards elevation above the sea, some yielding the 
inestimable bark, and others commercially worthless. 
The chinchona plant has never been found in any 
part of the world beyond the limits already de¬ 
scribed. 

When in good soil and under favourable circum¬ 
stances they become large forest trees, on higher eleva¬ 
tion, and when crowded and growing in rocky ground 
they frequently run up to great heights without a 
branch, and at the upper limit of their zone they 
become mere shrubs. The leaves are of a great 
variety of shapes and sizes, but in most of the finest 
species they are lanceolate, with a shining surface of 
bright green, traversed by crimson veins, and petioles 
of the same colour. Tlie flowers are very small, 
but hang in clustering panicles, like lilacs, generally 
of a deep roseate colour, paler near the stalk, 
dark crimson within the tube, with white curly 
hairs bordering the lacinije of the corolla. The 
flowers of (7. micrantha are entirely white. They 


308 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


send forth a delicious fragrance which scents the air 
in their vicinity. . . . The roots, flowers, and capsules 
of the chinchona-trees have a bitter taste, with tonic 
properties; but the upper bark is the only part 
which has any commercial value. 

Until the present century Peruvian bark was 
used in its crude state, and numerous attempts were 
made at different times to discover the actual healing 
principle in the hark before success was finally 
attained. The first trial which is worthy of atten¬ 
tion was made in 1779 by the chemists Buguet and 
Cornette, who recognised the existence of an essential 
salt, a resinous and an earthy matter in quinquina- 
bark. In 1790 Fourcroy discovered the existence of 
a colouring matter, afterwards called chinchona-red; 
and a Swedish doctor, named Westring, in 1800, 
believed that he had discovered the active principle 
in quinquina-bark. Eeuss, a Eussian chemist, in 1815, 
was the first to give a tolerable analysis of it; and 
about the same time Dr. Duncan, of Edinburgh, 
suggested that a real substance existed as a febrifugal 
principle. Dr. Gomez, a surgeon in the Portu¬ 
guese navy, in 1816, was the first to isolate this 
principle, and he called it chinchonine. 

But the final discovery of quinine is due to the 
French chemists Pelletier and Caventou in 1820. 
They considered that a vegetable alkaloid, analogous 
to morphine and strychnine, existed in quinquina 
bark ; and they afterwards discovered that the febri¬ 
fugal principle was seated in two alkaloids, separate 


DISCOVERY OF PERUVIAN BARK. 


309 


or together, in the different kinds of bark, called 
quinine and chinchonine, with the same virtues, 
which, however, were much more powerful in qui¬ 
nine. The discovery of these alkaloids in the quin¬ 
quina bark, by enabling chemists to extract the 
healing principle has greatly increased the usefulness 
of the drug. In small doses they promote the ap¬ 
petite and assist digestion; and chinchonine is equal 
to quinine in mild cases of intermittent fever; but 
in severe cases the use of quinine is absolutely ne¬ 
cessary. .. . India and other countries have been 
vainly searched for a substitute for quinine, and we 
may say with as much truth now as Lambert did in 
1820, ‘This medicine, the most precious of all those 
known in the art of healing, is one of the greatest 
conquests made by man over the vegetable kingdom. 
The treasures which Peru yields, and which the 
Spaniards sought and dug out of the bowels of the 
earth, are not to be compared for utility with the 
bark of the quinquina tree, which they for a long 
time ignored. . . .’ 

The species yielding ‘ red bark,’ the richest and 
most important of all the chinchonse, is found in 
the forests on the western slopes of Mount Chim¬ 
borazo, along the banks of the rivers Chanchan, 
Chasuan, San Antonio, and their tributaries. . . 

The collection of bark in the South American 
forests was conducted from the first with the most 
reckless extravagance : no attempt worthy the name 
has ever been made either with a view to the con- 


310 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


servancy or cultivation of the chinchona-trees, and 
both the complete abandonment of the forests to the 
mercy of every speculator, as in Peru, Ecuador, and 
New Grranada, and the barbarous meddling legisla¬ 
tion of Bolivia have led to the equally destructive 
results. The bark-collector enters the forest and 
destroys the first clump of trees he finds, without a 
thought of any measure to preserve the continuance 
of a supply of bark. Thus in Apollobamba, where 
the trees once grew thickly round the village, no 
full-grown one is now to be found within eight or 
ten days’ journey, and so utterly improvident are the 
collectors that, in the forests of Cochabamba they 
bark the tree without felling, and thus ensure its 
death; or, if they cut it down, they actually neglect 
to take off* the bark on the side touching the ground, 
to save themselves the trouble of turning the trunk 
over. 

In 1839 Dr. Boyle recommended the introduc¬ 
tion of the chinchona plants into India, pointing 
out the Neilgherry and Silhet hills as suitable sites 
for the experiment, and Lord William Bentinck took 
some interest in the project; . . . . but this attempt 
was surrounded by difficulties, from which all other 
undertakings of a similar nature have been free. 
When tea was introduced into the Himalayan dis¬ 
tricts, it had been a cultivated plant in China for 
many ages, and experienced Chinese cultivators 
came with it. But the chinchona had never been 
cultivated since the discovery of its value in 1638 ; 


DISCOVERY OF PERUVIAN BARK. 


311 


it bad remained a wild forest tree; all information 
concerning it was solely derived from the observa¬ 
tions of European travellers who bad penetrated into 
the virgin forests, and the only guidance for cul¬ 
tivators in India is to be found in the report of these 
travellers, and in the experience slowly acquired by 
careful and intelligent trials. Grreat as these diffi¬ 
culties were, they were probably exceeded by the 
perils and risks of every description which must be 
encountered in collecting plants and seeds in South 
America, and conveying them to India. 

But the vast importance of the introduction of 
these plants into our Indian empire, and the inesti¬ 
mable benefits which would thus be conferred on the 
millions who inhabit the fever-haunted plains and 
jungles, were commensurate with the difficulties of 
the undertaking. . . . 

In 1859 my services were accepted to super¬ 
intend the collection of chinchona-plants and seeds 
in South America, and their introduction into India ; 
I was authorized by Lord Stanley, then Secretary of 
State for India, to make such arrangements as 
should best ensure the complete success of an 
enterprise the results of which were expected to 
add materially to the resources of our Indian 
empire. 

By the spring of 1861, a large supply of plants 
and young seedlings was established in the Neil- 
gherry hills; and at the present moment we have 
thousands of chinchona-plants of all the valuable 


312 MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 

species flourishing and multiplying rapidly in 
Southern India and in Ceylon. 

Extracts from- Travels in Pern and India, by 
Clement E. Markham, F.S.A., F.E.Gr.S. 



Rio Vinagre Cascade, in the Cordilleras. 















313 


XXIX. 

0 

ANIMAL LIFE IN MOUNTAIN REGIONS. 

THE JACKDAW — THE LAGOPUS—INSECTS OF THE 
HIGH REGIONS. 

Birds naturally represent the population of the 
highest altitudes. In the Andes the condor ; in the 
Alps the eagle and the vulture hover above the most 
gigantic peaks. Those creatures being organised 
for long voyages are the great sailors of the atmo¬ 
spheric ocean, just as the terns and the petrels are 
the great sailors of the Atlantic. The jackdaw, 
that species of very black crow, which has a yellow 
beak and bright red claws, does not attain to so 
great a height in the air; but it is, par excellence, 
the bird of high peaks,— of the regions of snows 
and of sterile summits. We find it on the top of 
Monte Rosa and of the Col du Geant, 11,373 feet 
above the sea. Collected in flocks in the windings 
and turnings of the mountain, and skimming over 
the steepest rocks, the jackdaw utters his noisy note. 
Just those places which are particularly steep and pre- 


314 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


cipitous, and which make us giddy, have a particular 
attraction for birds; gigantic fir-trees, bell-towers, 
old steeples, the battlements of castles standing high 
above deep valleys, pinnacles of cathedrals, isolated 
peaks whose foundations rise out of frightful pre- 



Condors. 


cipices, these are their chosen dwellings; it is on 
these heights that they build their nests. True 
cenobites of the air, condemned like those of the 
Thebais to the most frugal and austere diet, they 
delight in solitude, and appear content just in 


ANIMAL LIFE IN MOUNTAIN REGIONS. 315 


proportion to the distance which separates them 
from man. 

There are also more graceful birds which dwell 
in the realms of ice and frost, and enliven the 
changeless and barren landscape. The greenfinch 
of the snow loves this cold country so much 
that it seldoms descends to the wooded reofious. 

O 

The accentor of the Alps sometimes follows it to 
these great heights, but prefers the stony and sterile 
region which separates the zone of vegetation from 
that of perpetual snow; others rise after them at 
times in pursuit of insects to the height of nearly 
10,000 or 11,000 feet 

The earth has its birds as well as the air, even 
at these heights. Certain kinds only use their 
wings for a few moments at a time, and when it is 
impossible for them to walk. Such are the galli¬ 
naceous tribe; and of these the snowy region has 
its own species, as it has its own sparrows. The 
lagopus, or snow hen, is found in Iceland as well in 
Switzerland. This bird will rise into regions of per¬ 
petual ice and remain nestled at great altitudes. In 
winter its plumage takes the appearance of the frost 
in which it lives. The snow is so necessary to it 
that at the approach of summer it mounts higher 
in order to find it. It nestles and rolls itself in it 
with great delight. It digs holes in order to find 
shelter from the wind, the only inconvenience which 
it fears in its icy dwelling. Any pieces of lichen or 
grain brought up by the wind suffice for its nourish- 


316 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTURES. 


ment, together with insects which it hunts for its 
young ones. 

Insects are, in fact, nearly the only creatures 
which multiply in these desolate regions; and in 
this respect they are like the Polar countries. In 
the temperate zone the coleoptera are to be seen in 
greater numbers and in greater variety than in the 
neighbouring regions of the Equator. In the Arctic 
regions, during the short summer, the insects come 
out in great numbers. And in the high Alps it is 
the class of coleoptera which predominates; they 
reach to a height of more than 9000 feet on the 
southern side, and to about 7300 feet on the opposite 
side. These little creatures may be discovered in 
the holes, and they are almost always carnivorous, 
for at so great a height vegetable nourishment alto¬ 
gether fails. Their wings are so short that they 
appear to be completely destitute of them ; so that 
they seem shielded by Nature from the great cur¬ 
rents of air which would infallibly carry them away 
if their wings were not, as it were, reefed in. In¬ 
deed other kinds, such as the neuroptera and butter¬ 
flies, are sometimes met with, but these have been 
carried by the wind to these heights, and they only 
perish in the snow. The n^ves and the ice-fields 
are covered with victims who have thus perished. 
Yet there are certain species which brave the in¬ 
fluence of the frost and are found even at the height 
of 12,000 or 15,000 feet. Mr. J. D. Hooker has 
observed butterflies on Mount Momay, at a height 


ANIMAL LIFE IN MOUNTAIN REGIONS. 317 


of more than 16,000 feet; but, as mentioned above, 
they are only poor shipwrecked creatures whom the 
wind drives up in spite of themselves. 

The arachnidse, which in so many respects ap¬ 
proach the class of insects have also the privilege of 
being able to resist the cold of mountains. One, 
almost microscopic insect of the Alps, the desoHa 
glacialis, inhabits exclusively the neighbourhood of 
glaciers. But really the melancholy of their abodes 
seems to be reflected in the appearance of these 
little animals ; they no longer present the variety of 
tints which characterises them elsewhere; and they 
are nearly all of a black or sombre colour, which at 
the first approach deceives you as to their existence 
in the holes which they inhabit. At these heights 
the habits of insects are also modified according to 
the localities in which they live. M. P, Lioy, who 
has drawn up a philosophical sketch of the laws 
which organic nature obeys, and of which it is the 
ever-changing manifestation, remarks that the noc¬ 
turnal insects of the plain become diurnal in moun¬ 
tainous places. That is, in fact, that the elevated 
regions reproduce in some respects the conditions of 
lower places during the night; they keep, even after 
the rising of the sun, the freshness and the shade 
which evening alone gives in the plains. 

Such is a picture of animal life in those Alpine 
regions where the fauna gradually becomes smaller 
and smaller until it at last gives place to solitude 
and desolation. Beyond the last stage of vegeta¬ 
tion, beyond the extreme point to which insects and 


318 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


mammifers attain, all becomes silent and without 
inhabitant; yet still the air is full of infusoria, and 
of microscopic animalculse, which the wind raises 
likes dust, and which are found in the air to an 
unknown height. 

So the animal kingdom does not disappear with¬ 
out having, so to speak, exhausted all the organisations 
compatible with the state of the soil as it becomes 
more and more chilled, and of the atmosphere which 
becomes more and more rarefied. Birds, like out¬ 
posts of the great army of living beings, seem to 
defend the mountains against the invasion of death. 
The rapacious ones are in some sort, the scouts; 
the passeres, the climbers, and some of the gallinse, 
answer to the main body of the army; and they 
love the intermediate region between the forests and 
the perpetual snows. The last firs, the last bushes, 
are like watch-towers from which they take observa¬ 
tions on the weather, and hold themselves ready to 
descend if it be threatening, or to ascend whenever 
there is any lessening of the cold. In this middle 
region the harmonious songs of the linnet and the 
nightingale have something doubtful about them ; 
but the song of the mountain birds breathes joy and 
tells of the pleasures of living. M. de Tschudi 
traces in a few lines a delicious picture of the 
existence of birds on the mountains. I translate 
freely: — 

^ Eather before the sky is coloured with the first 
morning tints, even before a light breath of air 
announces the approach of day, while the stars still 



ANIMAL LIFE IN MOUNTAIN REGIONS. 


319 


sparkle in the firmament, the birds give the first 
signal of the awakening of nature. First a light 
sound is heard from the fir-trees, a kind of cooing 
in which the notes gradually become more distinct. 
It gets quicker by degrees and ends by swelling 
into a harmonious chorus, rising and falling from 
branch to branch as the bow of the musician passes 
from the gravest chords to those which are more 
acute. Then a more ringing noise sounds out all 
at once, and voices timid at first siug each their 
characteristic notes, each species making itself 
heard, and its own song more or less distinctly. 
The soft and melancholy nocturne has ceased ; and 
now the winged people give the sun a serenade 
as he comes to warm up again their cold, damp 
dwellings.’ 

. . . One would like to live a moment of 

this aerial existence in the intermediate belt of earth, 
with just sufficient vegetation to afford a shelter 
from the mid-day heats and from the mid-night 
cold, just light enough for the eye to discern the 
magnificent panorama of mountains, and to gaze 
with delight into the firmament; but man is less 
favoured in this respect than the birds. He is not 
organised as they are to rise in the air and live in 
regions of very different atmospheric density. 
Happily, however, the difficulty which we feel in 
accomplishing a rapid and continuous ascent does 
not imply an absolute incompatibility of the higher 
regions with human life. We may become accli¬ 
matised to great heights. . . . The town of 


320 


MOUNTAIN ADVENTUKES. 


Quito, situated at between 8000 and 9000 feet above 
the level of the sea, comprises a numerous popula¬ 
tion which does not appear to suffer from the ele¬ 
vation. Another town of the Andes, Potosi, is 
12,300 feet high, and contains more than a hundred 
thousand souls. After,De Saussure had remained 
fifteen days on the top of the Alps, his pulse re¬ 
gained its normal motion; and Boussingault, after 
a prolonged stay in the towns of the Andes, could 
easily bear the low temperature of the top of Chim¬ 
borazo. But there are precautions to be taken if 
we would with impunity transport ourselves into 
these high situations, where, once established, and 
in suitable circumstances, it becomes possible to 
live : we should begin by habituating ourselves gra¬ 
dually to the barometrical changes of the atmo¬ 
sphere. 

A. Maury, Le Monde alpestre, Revue des Deux 
Mondes, 


7 21 ' f 


Steangewats and Walden, Printers, 28 Castle Street, Leicester Sq. 



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